I have had happy times here--I love the
work--I am very glad to earn the money, for my people want it. But I
must go. My heart--my conscience won't let me stay!'
She turned from him, with an unconscious gesture which seemed to the
Squire to be somewhat mingled with that of the great Victory
towering behind her, and went quickly back to her table, where she
began with trembling hands to put her papers together.
The Squire tried to laugh it off.
'And all this,' he said with a sneer, 'because I tied up a few
gates!'
She made no reply. He was conscious of mingled dismay and fury.
'You will stay your month?' he inquired at last, coldly. 'You don't
propose, I imagine, to leave me at a moment's notice?'
She was bending over her table, and did not look up.
'Oh yes, I will stay my month.'
He sat speechless, watching her. She very quickly finished what she
was doing, and taking up her note-book, and some half-written
letters, she left the room.
'A pretty state of things!' said the Squire, and thrusting his long
hands into his pockets he began to pace the library, in the kind of
temper that may be imagined--given the man and the circumstances.
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