"They may see us from the Shellingtons'," he said; and, in spite of her
unwillingness, he forced her up the steps. Like the wind of a hurricane,
a mixture of emotions stormed in his soul. He dared not do as he wished
and take the girl in his arms. He checked his desire to force his love
upon her, and motioned to a chair, into which Fledra sank. Like shining
ebony, her black hair framed a death-pale face. The darkness of a new
grief had deepened the shade in the mysterious eyes. For an instant she
paused on the edge of tears.

"I don't want to go back with Pappy Lon!" she whispered.

Everett caught his breath. She was even more lovely than he had
remembered. Inwardly he cursed the squatters. If he could eliminate them
from his plans--but they were necessary to him.

"I don't like none o' the bunch of ye!" Fledra burst out in his silence.
Brimbecomb's lips formed a slight smile. The girl pondered a moment, and
continued fiercely, "And I hate Ithaca and all the squatters!"

"You speak very much like your father," ventured the lawyer. "I can't
understand why you hate him. Your place is with him."

The girl bowed her head and wept softly. She realized that when she was
excited she could not remember her English.

"I've been a squatter," she said, forlornly shaking her head, "and I
s'pose Pappy Lon has a right to me; but I love--"

"You love whom?"