Bart was deeply touched by this cry which came from her heart. His fine, dark eyes glowed with tenderness and love.
“Don’t—don’t speak that way, sweetheart!” he murmured entreatingly. “I never dreamed you were like this, or I should not have left you.”
But Elsie, with the unselfishness which had always marked her as the rarest and noblest of girls, retorted:
“I didn’t wish you to know, for I felt that it was right that you should be with Frank, and I would not rob you of one moment of pleasure.”
“She’ll be all right in a few minutes,” said Merry encouragingly. “We must have that dinner at the Belvidere.”
“I’m afraid you do not understand, Frank,” said Elsie. “I overdid when you were here last. I made a mistake in attending that lacrosse game, and it set me back. Oh, I’d love to go to dinner with you and Inza and Bart at the Belvidere, but I dare not attempt it.”
Hodge was now more troubled and distressed over Elsie’s condition than he seemed. Had she not understood him so well, she might have fancied him unsympathetic; but between them there was that mental telegraphy which seems to unite the hearts of all true sweethearts, and she knew that, manlike, while he did not betray the softness of a woman, his emotions were even deeper than her own.
Elsie turned to Inza.
“You must go out to dinner with Frank,” she said. “Yes, I insist upon it.”