“That’s a reason; it’s the reason I find it easiest to give. But I mustn’t hide it from you now that—that I’ve—I’ve another.”
“You’re going home to marry me.”
“How can I be going home to marry you, when—when I never knew till within half an hour that you—that you cared anything about me?”
I made one of my long mental leaps. I made it as a man might take the one chance of life in leaping a crevasse, knowing that there are more chances that he will be dashed to pieces in the chasm.
“You’re going home to be married.”
There was a kind of awe in the way she drew off from me.
“You’re extraordinary,” she breathed, faintly. “Miss Ogden didn’t tell you that.”
I had not cleared the crevasse. I was struggling desperately on the edge of it, while beneath me was the abyss.