"I was a f-fool to
think he--he cared. Of course he--he was only amusing himself!" and then
her self-control suddenly gave way, and her head fell forward upon her
sister's shoulder. But only for a moment; that high queenliness was not
on the surface, merely, but in the heart, as well. "I think I'm getting
tired of Weet-sur-Mer, dad," she said, quite steadily, with a wan little
smile. "I seem to be hungering for New York again; wouldn't you like to
go home?"
"We'll go, of course, at once, dad," commanded Sue. "That's the only
thing to do. Oh!" she cried, her eyes flashing, "I could murder such a
man--cut him to pieces, inch by inch--and gloat over the deed!"
Rushford was very pale and his hands were trembling a little as he
started for the door.
"Yes, I'll order the trunks packed," he said, incoherently. "I'll have
to hurry--I'll try to--"
Something in his voice caught Susie's ear; she turned her head and
looked at him.
"Dad!" she called.
He paused with his hand on the knob.
"Dad, come here."
He came back reluctantly.
"We're to go away quietly, you know, without telling any one; there's to
be no fuss--we couldn't bear that--"
A tap on the door interrupted her. Rushford opened it. A man stood
without, a German with complexion like mahogany. He bowed silently and
handed in a note.
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