Page:The little blue devil (IA littlebluedevil00mackiala).pdf/217

I never had one all my life. Whereas you were simply made for a home, and here you are out in the world———”

“You ought to be pleased,” said Pamela simply. “In London you always said I knew nothing about life outside.”

Tony caught his breath sharply, as if something hurt him, but said nothing.

“She does rub it in,” he thought. “I suppose I deserve it, but she certainly rubs it in.”

The innocent Pamela, glancing at him, understood something of what he felt, and gave a little gasp. It was horrid to hurt people.

“Oh, please!” she said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Tony, please! I didn’t mean that.”

“No, I know you didn’t.” He managed to smile at her, but the conversation flagged.

The silence lasted so long that Pamela broke it by asking when he had met Mrs. Straine.

“I know you have known her a long time, by what she said at breakfast, and besides she said she hadn’t seen you for years.”

“It was when I was fifteen. They were good to me—I broke my thigh, and they took me into their own home. I was there for nearly a year.”

“That was good of them. Mrs. Straine is very nice.”

“She is the best woman in the world,” said Tony with finality. The decisiveness of this threatened to close the conversation again, so he began to talk of the Professor. But he only used the front of his brain, the other half was thinking of Pamela.

“If only I could think of a way of getting her back—but she won’t go, and it is my fault. I feel responsible for her now. She is such a child. Apparently her friends have decided not to take any notice of her—to bring her to her senses, I suppose, but that will take longer than