"Then, by God! you're a greater dog than I thought you! Let me get out of here before I smash your face!"
Everett's haughty countenance flamed red; but he stepped aside, and Horace, shaking with rage, left the house.
"I think I've given him something to think about," muttered Everett. "He won't be surprised by anything I do now, and I've protected myself with Ann against him, too."
* * * * *
It was only when alone with Everett that Ann felt completely at her ease. Then she threw aside the shadow that many times dismayed her and looked forward to her wedding day, which was to come in May. This evening she was sitting with her betrothed under the glow of a red chandelier.
"You know, Ann, I haven't given up the idea of finding my own family," said Brimbecomb presently. "The more I work at law, the more I believe I shall find a way to unearth them. I told Mr. and Mrs. Brimbecomb that I intended to spend part of my next year looking for them. Mrs. Brimbecomb said she didn't know the name under which I was born. I'm convinced that I shall find them."
"I hope you do, Dear."
"You don't blame me, do you, Ann, for wanting to know to whom I'm indebted for life?"
"No," answered Ann slowly; "although it might not make you any happier. That is what I most wish for you, Dearest--complete happiness."
Everett lifted her delicate fingers and kissed them.
"I shall have that when you are my wife," he said smoothly.
Later he asked, "Did you speak with Horace of the matter that worried you, Ann?"
Miss Shellington sighed.
"Not in a personal way," she replied; "but I really think there is more than either you or I know. Fledra never puts herself in Horace's way any more; in fact, they have both changed very much."
"Possibly he has told her that he cares for her, and she has--"
Ann shifted from him uneasily. "If Horace loves her, and has told her so, she could not help but love him in return. She is really growing thin with hard work, poor baby!"
"Does she love Horace?" sounded Everett.
"I can't tell, although I have watched her very closely."
A strange grip caught Everett's heart. He could not think of the small, dark girl without a pang of emotion. He had made no effort to see Fledra; yet he was constantly wishing that chance would throw her in his path. Later, he intended in some way to bring about another interview. He dared not write her a letter, although he had gone so far as to begin one to her, but in disgust at himself had torn it up. The fact that Horace was unhappy pleased him, now that they had become antagonistic.