But he turned aside with a groan and leaning his elbow against a tree, buried his head in his arm.
Barbara eyed him doubtfully.
"Ralph! Ralph! What is't?" she asked sharply. "Why did you fight?"
"Because—and on my faith, Barbara, I believed it to be the truth—I told that fellow, Protheroe, that his presence, his attentions pestered you, and I insisted he should leave you."
Barbara drew herself up royally.
"You did, Ralph?" she asked coldly. "And pray what reason had you for so insulting a guest in my house, a man to whom we owe everything? Your reason, Ralph?" she urged with an imperious stamp of her foot.
"Ah! Barbara," he moaned; "look in your glass and there seek my reason. Your face is reason enough to send a man to hell."
Barbara's indignation gave way at this unexpected retort. She was subdued, silent.
Then Ralph raised his head and turned to face her.
"Barbara! I must know the truth. Do you not love me?"