But Francie was looking at her sister as if her attention had been arrested. "How do you mean—'a deep one'?"
"Why, he wanted to break it off, the wretch!"
Francie stared; then a deeper flush leapt to her face, in which already there was a look of fever. "To break off my engagement?"
"Yes, just that. But I'll be hanged if he shall! Father, will you allow that?"
"Allow what?"
"Why Mr. Flack's vile interference. You won't let him do as he likes with us, I suppose, will you?"
"It's all done—it's all done!" said Francie. The tears had suddenly started into her eyes again.
"Well, he's so smart that it is likely he's too smart," said Mr. Dosson. "But what did they want you to do about it?—that's what I want to know."
"They wanted me to say I knew nothing about it—but I couldn't."
"But you didn't and you don't—if you haven't even read it!" Delia returned.
"Where is the d—d thing?" her father asked, looking helplessly about him.
"On the boulevard, at the very first of those kiosks you come to. That old woman has it—the one who speaks English—she always has it. Do go and get it—do!" And Delia pushed him, looked for his hat for him.
