"This some one you love," he said gently, "will it not hurt them terribly? Have you thought of that?"
He saw the tears come. They rolled slowly down her cheeks. She faintly whispered:
"He doesn't love me."
Haldicott could feel no amusement now, the pity was too great. He put his other hand on the hand he held.
"Used he to love you?" he asked.
"No," said Allida; "he never loved me."
For a moment Haldicott struggled with a half-nervous wish to laugh; relief was in the wish.
"And he knows that you love him?" he controlled his voice to ask.
"He will—when he gets my letter."
"Poor devil!" ejaculated Haldicott.