“All right,” said Roland, “I’ll go on, though you know what I’ve got to tell you. I don’t know whose fault it is. I suppose it’s mine really, but things have happened this way. I’m not in love with April any more.”
Again he paused and again Ralph repeated that one word, “Well?”
“I don’t love her any more, and I’ve fallen in love with someone else and we want to get married.”
“Who is it?”
“Muriel Marston.”
“The sister of that fellow you play cricket with?”
“Yes, that’s it.” He paused, hoping that now Ralph would help him out, but Ralph gave him no assistance, and Roland was forced to plunge again into his confession. “Well, you see, April knows nothing about it. I’ve been a bit of a beast, I suppose. As far as she is concerned the understanding still holds good. She’s still in love with me, at least she thinks she is. It’s—well, you see how it is.”
“Yes, I quite see that. You’ve been playing that old game of yours, of running two girls in two different places, only this time it’s gone less fortunately and you find you’ve got to marry one of them, and April’s the one that’s got to go?”
“If you put it that way——”
“Well, how else can I put it?”