"
"When will you then?" and Edith spoke pettishly. "You always put
me off, and I don't see either why you need to be so much afraid
of telling me about her, unless her mother was bad, or something."
"Edith," Richard replied, "I do not wish to explain to you now. By
and by I'll tell you, it may be, though even that will depend on
circumstances;" and he sighed as he thought what the circumstances
must be which would keep from Edith any further knowledge of
Eloise than she already possessed.
Edith did not hear the sigh. She only knew that it was useless to
question him, and beating her little foot impatiently, she
muttered, "More mystery. If there's any thing I hate it's
mystery.--"
She did not finish what she meant to say, for at that moment she
spied Arthur and Nina coming through the garden gate as the
nearest route.
Edith was not in the best of humors. She was vexed at Richard,
because he wouldn't tell and at Arthur for "acting so," as she
termed it,--this acting so implying the studied indifference with
which he had treated her of late.
Pages:
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287