She burst into tears, and then hurried away into some nook where she could not be seen by her mother and Bell on their return.
Eames went on his way, walking very quietly, swinging his stick and kicking through the dust, with his heart full of the scene which had just passed.

He was angry with himself, thinking that he had played his part badly, accusing himself in that he had been rough to her, and selfish in the expression of his love; and he was angry with her because she had declared to him that she loved Crosbie better than all the world besides.

He knew that of course she must do so;--that at any rate it was to be expected that such was the case.

Yet, he thought, she might have refrained from saying so to him.

"She chooses to scorn me now," he said to himself; "but the time may come when she will wish that she had scorned him." That Crosbie was wicked, bad, and selfish, he believed most fully.