Florou stared.

"I'm going to get married, I tell you!"

"And who'll have you?"

"Who will have me!" he cried, fairly choking with rage.

Almost beside himself at the old woman's effrontery, he wanted to crush
her with angry eloquence; but her stolidity baffled him, and he went up
to his room without a word. When he was alone, his anger soon cooled;
but he found himself repeating those cruel words, and as he said them
over, he began to fear that Florou was not so far wrong.

He recalled his friend's first disavowal of any thought of him as a
suitor, and the father's strange hesitation. And then, why didn't Liakos
come; what was keeping him so long? If his mission was successful, he
would have brought the news at once. The question was very simple, the
answer "yes" or "no"; it surely must be "no," and the judge was keeping
back the evil tidings.

How silly he had been to expose himself to a rebuff on the impulse of
the moment--what perfect folly! What business had he to get into such a
scrape? But no, he had only done his duty; he had proved to his
preserver the sincerity of his friendship and the depth of his
gratitude. But why didn't Liakos come? Why didn't he hurry back and end
this suspense?

The unhappy man looked at his watch again and again, and was astonished