“What did he mean?” she cried, her cheeks pink with anger, and her blue eyes shining through tears. “Gray, does he suspect me?”
“No, Anita, of course not. But he’s on a trail. Perhaps it wasn’t Polly after all.”
“But it had to be! It was somebody in the house, and it wasn’t you or me or any of the servants.”
“Well, you listen to me, girl. If they quiz you any more about that talkfest you butted into, don’t you color the yarn to make it seem against Polly. I won’t have it!”
“How cross you are! But I never did, Gray. I never made it seem to be evidence against Pauline.”
“You never did anything else!”
“Don’t you love me any more?” and the soft lips quivered as an appealing glance was raised to his face. Her eyes, like forget-me-nots in the rain, were so beautiful, Haviland clasped the lovely face in both his hands, and said as he held it: “I won’t love you, ’Nita, if you go back on our Polly. I’m surprised at your attitude toward her just now, and I warn you I won’t stand any more of it. I’m forced to think she did this thing, but I intend to admit that to nobody but you and Stone. If he can find the real criminal, and it isn’t Polly, I’ll bless him forever. But you know, as well as I do, why he is clinging to that forlorn hope. It’s because he’s——”
“Of course, I know! Because he’s in love with her.”
“Yes; and it’s a remarkable thing for him to fall head over heels in love at first sight, like that.”
“Well, of course, she is handsome,” and Anita’s grudging admission was real praise.