But I'm all right now, dear. W-where's
Chichester?"
"I--don't know, Ronald."
"But you, Cleone? You came here to m-meet this--this Beverley?"
"Yes, Ronald."
"D'you know w-what he is? D'you know he's a publican's son?--a vile,
low fellow masquerading as a g-gentleman? Yes, he's a p-publican's
son, I tell you!" he repeated, seeing how she shrank at this.
"And you s-stoop to such as he--s-stoop to meet him in s-such a
place as this! So I came to save you f-from yourself!"
"Did you, Ronald?"
"Yes--but oh, Cleone, you don't love the fellow, do you?"
"I think I--hate him, Ronald."
"Then you won't m-meet him again?"
"No, Ronald."
"And you'll try to be a little kinder--to C-Chichester?" Cleone
shivered and rose to her feet.
"Come!" said she, her hands once more clasped upon her bosom,
"it grows late, I must go."
"Yes. D-devilish depressing place this! G-give me your arm, Clo."
But as they turned to go, the bushes parted, and Barnabas appeared.
"Cleone!" he exclaimed.
"I--I'm going home!" she said, not looking at him.
"Then I will come with you,--if I may?"
"I had rather go--alone--with my brother.
Pages:
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638