“Yes, Lon,” Betty replied meekly. She had got what she wanted, and she was willing to propitiate him by a demure obedience calculated to remove the sting of her victory.
Don opened the door and announced that supper was ready.
Betty saw Merrick’s eye flash a question at Forbes as they came into the larger room. She went directly to him. Betty was a woman; therefore complex. But she usually expressed herself simply.
“It’s all settled, Justin. Lon is going to stay with me.”
He made no answer in words, but his salient jaw set grimly. Like many masterful men, he did not relish defeat.
They drank coffee from tin cups and ate bacon, tomatoes, and beans served in tin plates. Don’s biscuits were appetizing, and four or five pans of them disappeared before his guests were fed.
Betty lived up to the promise she had made Lon. She whispered with Dr. Rayburn for a minute, then said “Good-night” to the company generally, and vanished into her bedroom.
The day had been a full one. To come in over the snow had taxed the strength of her muscles. She was tired, and, as she sat before the glowing coals taking the pins out of her hair, she yawned luxuriously.
Just now her mind was on Merrick. The vague disappointment in their relationship had crystallized to-day into definite dissatisfaction. To use one of her father’s expressions, Justin and she had not come out of the same pasture. They thought in different languages.
That he had not sympathized with the urge in her to spend herself in service for the wounded man was important beyond the immediate question. And, even if he did not agree with her, he should have understood her obligation to do as she thought best. It involved their whole future. The trouble was that he did not recognize her right to follow the guidance of her own judgment. She must defer to him, must accept his decision as final.