Eugene.
Concluding this missive, George tossed it abruptly from him so that
one sheet fell upon his bed and the others upon the floor; and at the
faint noise of their falling Isabel came, and, kneeling, began to
gather them up.
"Did you read it, dear?"
George's face was pale no longer, but pink with fury. "Yes, I did."
"All of it?" she asked gently, as she rose.
"Certainly!"
She did not look at him, but kept her eyes downcast upon the letter in
her hands, tremulously rearranging the sheets in order as she spoke--
and though she smiled, her smile was as tremulous as her hands.
Nervousness and an irresistible timidity possessed her. "I--I wanted
to say, George," she faltered. "I felt that if--if some day it should
happen--I mean, if you came to feel differently about it, and Eugene
and I--that is if we found that it seemed the most sensible thing to
do--I was afraid you might think it would be a little queer about--
Lucy, I mean if--if she were your step-sister. Of course, she'd not
be even legally related to you, and if you--if you cared for her--"
Thus far she got stumblingly with what she wanted to say, while George
watched her with a gaze that grew harder and hotter; but here he cut
her off.
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