With him, moreover,
the process had been gradual and, moreover, he had seen beneath it
all. And yet he had foolishly expected Helen to understand
everything at once. He was unjust, so very wisely he held himself
in silence.
"Where is her baggage, Jack?" Helen had opened her trunk and was
lifting out the lid. "She ought to change those dusty clothes at
once. You'd better ring and have it sent right up."
"No," said Hale, "I will go down and see about it myself."
He returned presently--his face aflame--with June's carpet-bag.
"I believe this is all she has," he said quietly.
In spite of herself Helen's grief changed to a fit of helpless
laughter and, afraid to trust himself further, Hale rose to leave
the room. At the door he was met by the negro maid.
"Miss Helen," she said with an open smile, "Miss June say she
don't want NUTTIN'." Hale gave her a fiery look and hurried out.
June was seated at a window when he went into her room with her
face buried in her arms. She lifted her head, dropped it, and he
saw that her eyes were red with weeping. "Are you sick, little
girl?" he asked anxiously.
Pages:
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245