"He is my friend, just as he is yours."
"But I—but he——"
"Dick, I asked him if I might tell you, and he said, yes. John asked me to marry him, and when I said I couldn't, he asked me to wait till our work was done, and let him ask me again. Can't you see, Dick, how hard it was for me? And John is—he is such a splendid man. I could not deny him, and—that was when you came into the room—don't you remember—Dick?"
The mist was thickening about me; it seemed my mind swam in clouds. I only said: "Yes?"
"Oh, Dick, I am ashamed! You know how I respect him—how I like him. He did ask me again, before he went to America."
"And now—now, you——"
"It hurt dreadfully; but I had to say no, because——"
And there she stopped. She was not engaged to John Crondall. She had refused him—refused John Crondall! Yet I knew how high he stood in her eyes. Could it be that there was some one else—some one in Africa? The suggestion spelled panic. It seemed to me that I must know—that I could not bear to leave her without knowing.
"Forgive me, Constance," I said, "but is there some one else who—is there some one else?" To see into her dear face, I dropped on one knee beside her chair.
"I—I thought there was," she said very sweetly. And as she spoke she raised her head, and I saw her beautiful eyes, through tears. It was there I read my happiness. I am not sure that any words could have given it me, though I found it sweeter than anything else I had known in my life to have her tell me afterwards in words. It was an unforgettable morning.