David's pride, at least, was
appeased. She _had_ looked at him, after all, and was interested.
He was struck by the sudden, curious change that came over Mrs.
Braddock's face. She was looking past him toward the entrance to the
circus tent. All the color, all the eagerness left her face in a
flash; the warmth died out in her big brown eyes and in its stead
appeared a look of positive dread and uneasiness--it might have been
repugnance. Her lips grew tense, and he could see that she started
ever so slightly, as if in surprise.
He glanced over his shoulder. Thomas Braddock was approaching, his
face red with anger and drink. At his side walked a tall, exceedingly
well-dressed stranger, who carried his silk hat in his hand and was
smiling blandly upon the proprietor's wife.
"Oh, that man again!" he heard her say between her stiff lips. There
was a world of loathing in the half-whispered sentence, which was so
low that it barely reached his ears. He looked up quickly, and saw her
face go darkly red again--the red of humiliation, he could have sworn.
"Go!" she said to David, quietly but firmly.
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