Good Indian was not in the habit of
saying things, even in anger, which he did not mean, and he could
not understand how anyone else could do so. And the things she
had said!
But here she was, nevertheless, laughing at him and blushing
adorably because he still held her fast, and making the blood of
him race most unreasonably.
"Don't scold me, Aunt Phoebe," she begged, perhaps because there
was something in Phoebe's face which she did not quite
understand, and so mistook for disapproval of her behavior. "I
should have told you last night that we're--well, I SUPPOSE we're
supposed to be engaged!" She twisted her hands away from him, and
came down the steps to her aunt. "It all happened so
unexpectedly--really, I never dreamed I cared anything for him,
Aunt Phoebe, until he made me care. And last night I couldn't
tell you, and this morning I was going to, but all this horrible
trouble came up--and, anyway," she finished with a flash of
pretty indignation, "I think Grant might have told you himself! I
don't think it's a bit nice of him to leave everything like that
for me.
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