alone? To think about herself—for no other reason, unless it was to think
An unreasoning anger filled the heart of the girl. She looked about for one on whom to vent it, and was given George Young, who at that moment stepped down from the veranda and was proceeding with bent head toward the young men's rooms. His very carriage was an offence; but his excellent singing that night had been a greater. Irralie determined to be even with him on the spot. He was the only one who had never said a word about the wounded hand. That was another thing; she would ask him what it all meant. And yet—she might have known. George Young was a friend of some few years' standing. He could remember her short dresses and her black pigtail. But Greville Fullarton was the acquaintance of a single day.
"George!" cried Irralie, authoritatively. "Who has frightened you?" she scornfully added, as he came up staring.
