"Do you! Think!"
He attempted to face down her steadfast eyes. He failed, and, turning
his glance uneasily, he saw Roger Payne.
"What's this? What's this?"
His eyes ran wildly from Roger to the girl and back again; and as they
rested upon Payne they grew dead and gray with hatred, the futile
hopeless hatred of an old man for one who is young.
"Who is this man, Annette? How does he come to be here? Answer me at
once; answer me, I say!"
The girl looked long at him, looked with clear, calm eyes until the old
man's pouter-pigeon effect disappeared.
"My dear! Forgive my vehemence. You see I think only of you. I was
afraid----"
"Yes. What are you afraid of, father?" asked the girl swiftly. "Tell
me that. I often wonder."
"Afraid? I?"
"Yes. I sometimes see it in your eyes when you think no one is
looking. Have you done something----?"
"Child?"
"Land sales, for instance? If so, I must know. I'm not little Annette
any longer. I must know things now."
The old man stroked his white beard nervously. His eyes shifted
uneasily toward Payne.
"Oh! pardon my negligence," exclaimed the girl. "This is Mr. Payne,
father. He's purchased a lot of land down here. Mr. Payne, this is my
father, Senator Fairclothe."
Payne bowed automatically.
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