"
For the first time Lucy's rebellious thoughts swept out in
words--for the first time in her life.
"You have said very little."
"It was my intention to say very little," was his frigid reply.
He gazed indignantly at the girl, who met him with equal
indignation. She turned towards him from the shop counter; her
breast heaved quickly. He observed her brow, and the sudden
strength of her lips. It was intolerable that she should
disbelieve him.
"Murder, if you want to know," he cried angrily. "That man
murdered his wife!"
"How?" she retorted.
"To all intents and purposes he murdered her. That day in Santa
Croce--did they say anything against me?"
"Not a word, Mr. Eager--not a single word."
"Oh, I thought they had been libelling me to you. But I suppose
it is only their personal charms that makes you defend them."
"I'm not defending them," said Lucy, losing her courage, and
relapsing into the old chaotic methods. "They're nothing to me."
"How could you think she was defending them?" said Miss Bartlett,
much discomfited by the unpleasant scene.
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