“I asked you to come to Fairview,” she said, assuming a lightness of tone, “and you never appeared. I thought it was horrid of you to forget, after we'd been such friends.”
“I didn't forget,” replied Austen.
“Then you didn't want to come.”
He looked into her eyes, and she dropped them.
“You will have to be the best judge of that,” he said.
“But what am I to think?” she persisted.
“Think the best of me you can,” he answered, as they drew up on the gravel before the open door of Fairview house. A man was standing in the moonlight on the porch.
“Is that you, Victoria?”
“Yes, father.”
“I was getting worried,” said Mr. Flint, coming down on the driveway.