"I never heard such trash—you can't behave that way! Has he got engaged to some one else—in America?" Delia demanded.
"Why, if it's over it's over. I guess it's all right," said Mr. Dosson, kissing his younger daughter. "I'll go back or I'll go on. I'll go anywhere you like!"
"You won't have your daughters insulted, I presume!" Delia cried. "If you don't tell me this moment what has happened I'll drive straight round there and find out."
"Have they insulted you, sweetie?" asked the old man, bending over the girl, who simply leaned upon him with her hidden face, with no sound of tears.
Francie raised her head, turning round upon her sister. "Did I ever tell you anything else—did I ever believe in it for an hour?"
"Oh, well, if you've done it on purpose—to triumph over me—we might as well go home, certainly. But I think you had better wait till Gaston comes."
"It will be worse when he comes—if he thinks the same as they do."
"Have they insulted you—have they?" Mr. Dosson repeated; while the smoke of his cigar, curling round the question, gave him the air of asking it with placidity.
"They think I've insulted them—they're in an awful state—they're almost dead. Mr. Flack has
