The news that Barbara was lost had reached
Miss Sarah hours before Allison's private car brought the girl and her
father and Hardwick Elliott back to Morrison. Thereupon, with her
first glimpse of Barbara's wanly mute and suffering face, she had
pieced the details together; she had told herself, with sorrow and
understanding in her heart, that she must no longer interfere. And
now, though she did summon Barbara to her, the end of the second
endless day, it was with no thought for evasion or finesse. Barbara
obeyed that summons reluctantly. In the face of an almost sullen light
in the girl's eyes when she entered on lagging feet, the older woman
knew that she could not have persisted in such an attempt, even had she
planned to employ it. Additional warning was not needed, but Barbara's
first words told her that the hour was long past for such methods.
At first the girl refused to sit down. She wandered aimlessly around
the room, switching nervously at her booted ankles with her
riding-crop, to stop suddenly and raise a pale and stormy face.
"I know why you sent for me," she exclaimed, "and I know just what you
think of me. But I must tell you, Miss Sarah, that there is nothing
which can alter now, the least little bit, a decision which I know is
wisest and best!"
So she had the first word, never dreaming that Miss Sarah had seen to
that.
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