"You know," began Isabel, after her sobs had quieted somewhat, "I was
engaged to Allison Kent until you ran over us. At first I couldn't go
over--I was so bruised and lame and before I was well enough to go, I
got a note from him, releasing me from the engagement."
"Yes?" queried Romeo, encouragingly. "Go on."
"Well, I didn't think I ought to go over, under the circumstances, but
Aunt Francesca made me go--she's been mean to me, too. So I went and he
was horrid to me--perfectly horrid. I offered him his ring and he almost
threw his violin at me, and told me to keep that, too. I was afraid of
him.
"Well, since that, everything has been awful. I wrote to Mamma and told
her about it and that I couldn't stay here any longer, and she didn't
answer for a long time. Then she said I would have to stay where I was
until she could make new arrangements for me and that she was glad I
wasn't going to marry a cripple. She said something about 'the survival
of the unfit,' but I didn't understand it.
"And then, last night, when I heard that Allison wasn't going to lose
his hand after all, I thought I ought to take his violin back to him and
try to well,--to make up, you know.
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