"
Olga's head drooped, as she said in a voice barely audible:
"Ah, you knew it."
"What of that?"
"I see--you knew it----"
"What of that, Olga?" he repeated impatiently. "I knew it as a bare
fact--no explanation. What does it mean? You know, I suppose?"
In spite of himself, look and tones betrayed his eagerness for her
reply.
"They disagreed about something," said Olga. "I don't know what. I
shouldn't wonder if they make it up again."
At this moment the woman in care of the house entered with the
tea-tray. To give herself a countenance, Olga spoke of something
indifferent, and when they were alone again, their talk avoided the
personal matters which had so embarrassed both of them. Olga said
presently that she was going to see her friend Miss Bonnicastle
to-morrow.
"If I could see only the least chance of supporting myself, I would
go to live with her again. She's the most sensible girl I know, and
she did me good."
"How, did you good?"
"She helped me against myself," replied Olga abruptly. "No one else
ever did that."
Then she turned again to the safer subjects.
"When shall I see you again?" Otway inquired, rising after a long
silence, during which both had seemed lost in their thoughts.
"Who knows?--But I will write and tell you what my uncle says
about the letters, if he says anything. Again, thank you!"
She gave her hand frankly.
Pages:
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375