The young man in the parlour was not Randall Burnley . He was dark and smart and handsome ; he was sitting on the sofa by Avery 's side , holding her hands in his , smiling into her rosy , delighted , excited face . And he was Bruce Gordon -- no doubt of that . Bruce Gordon , the expected cousin from Scotland ! `` Oh , what have I done ? What have I done ? '' moaned poor Janet , wringing her hands . She had seen Avery 's face quite plainly -- had seen the look in her eyes . Avery had never looked at Randall Burnley like that . Granny Thomas ' abominable ointment had worked all right -- and Avery had fallen in love with the wrong man . Janet , cold with horror and remorse , dragged herself up to the window again and listened . She must know -- she must be sure . She could hear only a word here and there , but that word was enough . `` I thought you promised to wait for me , Avery , '' Bruce said reproachfully . `` You were so long in coming back -- I thought you had forgotten me , '' cried Avery . `` I think I did forget a little , Avery . I was such a boy . But now -- well , thank Heaven , I have n't come too late . '' There was a silence , and shameless Janet , peering above the window sill , saw what she saw . It was enough .
She crept away upstairs XXXXX her room .
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