" And, wondering, June was
silent. The truth was that the old man had wormed out of Hale an
admission of the kindly duplicity the latter had practised on him
and on June, and he had given his word to Hale that he would not
tell June. He did not understand why Hale should have so insisted
on that promise, for it was all right that Hale should openly do
what he pleased for the girl he was going to marry--but he had
given his word: so he turned away, but his frown stayed where it
was.
June went on, puzzled, for she knew that her father was
withholding something, and she knew, too, that he would tell her
only in his own good time. But she could go away when she pleased-
-that was the comfort--and with the thought she stopped suddenly
at the corner of the garden. She could see Hale on his big black
horse climbing the spur. Once it had always been his custom to
stop on top of it to rest his horse and turn to look back at her,
and she always waited to wave him good-by. She wondered if he
would do it now, and while she looked and waited, the beating of
her heart quickened nervously; but he rode straight on, without
stopping or turning his head, and June felt strangely bereft and
resentful, and the comfort of the moment before was suddenly gone.
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