Part 28 (1/2)
”My--my hand--” she said.
And he, not understanding for the moment, looked at her, and then suddenly understanding came to him.
”You--you mean?”
”You--you did not answer my letter, and I--I waited,” she said, and her voice was low and m.u.f.fled. There was no pride in her face now; all its hardness, all its bitterness and scorn were gone.
”I waited and waited--and thought--hoped,” she said, ”and nothing came.
And yesterday a man--a man I like and admire, a fine man, a good man, honest and n.o.ble, a man who--who loves me better than I deserve, came to me--and--and so to-day it is too late! Though,” she cried, with a touch of scorn for herself, ”it would have made no difference--nothing would have made any difference. You--you understand that I scarcely know what I am saying!”
”You have given your promise to another man?” he asked quietly.
”Yes!”
”And you do not love him?”
”He's a man,” she cried, ”a man who would not make a jest of a woman's name.”
”And even so, you do not love him, because that would not be possible.”
”You have no right to say that,” and she wrenched her hand free.
”I have the right, the right you gave me.”
”I--I gave you no right.”
”You have. You gave me that right, Joan, when you gave me your heart.
You do not love that man, because you love me!”
Back into the white face came all the hardness and coldness that he so well knew. She rose; she looked down on him.
”It is--untrue. I do not. I have but one feeling for you always--always--the same, the one feeling. I despise you. How could I love a thing that I despise?”
And, knowing that it was a lie, she dared not meet the scrutiny of his eyes, and turned quickly away.
”Joan!” he said. He would have followed her, but then came the waiter with his bill, and he was forced to stay, and when he reached the street she was gone.
”I quite thought that they were going to make it up, and then it seemed that they quarrelled again,” one of the ladies at the other table said.
The other nodded. ”I think that they do not know their own minds, young people seldom do. I wish I had bought three yards more of that cerise ninon. It would have made up so well for Violet, don't you think?”
CHAPTER XXVI
MR. ALSTON CALLS
Mr. Philip Slotman sat in his office; he was slowly deciphering a letter, ill-written and badly spelled.
”DEAR SIR,