“Do you mean to say,” the young man said, at last, “that there was no truth in what I heard? Don’t you expect to marry Holloway?”
“I never expect to marry anyone, but certainly not him,” she replied, trying to regain her composure.
“Honest?”
“Assuredly.”
It was as if an unseen orchestra had suddenly burst forth just near enough and just far enough away. He came to the side of her chair and laid his hand upon its back.
“Then what have you been thinking of me lately?” he asked.
“Very sad thoughts,” she confessed—hiding her face again.
“Did you care?”
“Yes, I cared.”
He stood beside her for a long time without speaking or moving. Then he suddenly pulled a chair forward, and sat down close in front of her.