CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Craig Browning brought home the news to Mary as soon as his presence was no longer required at the bank—hurried home to forestall distorted rumor. The task of breaking the news to Lydia disturbed him more than he would have cared to admit, for he and Mary were aware the girl was passing through some trying crisis. High-strung, tempestuous, imaginative as Lydia was, Craig feared the results of knowledge that the father of her future husband was an embezzler, had met his death in an effort to escape with money which he had stolen.
“She’ll have to know, of course,” Mary Browning said apprehensively, “but—she’s shut in her room now, Craig. Something’s happened again. Mal was here this afternoon—and—there was some sort of a quarrel…. I can’t understand Lydia—but I don’t believe she cares for Mal. Never have I seen an engaged girl act as she acts. Poor Mal, I’m so sorry for him.”
“And I for Lydia. Her character, her up-
303
