“And your sarcasm is that known as the withering variety. Oh, Avice, don’t let’s fence. You are beautiful, and you are very dear to me. If I weren’t—if they didn’t—oh, pshaw! if I were free of all suspicion in this horrid matter, would you,—could you——”
“Kane,” she said, looking at him seriously; “you didn’t do it, did you?”
“I will not tell you.”
“That can mean either of two things; one, which I hope, that you are innocent, and so, resent my question; the other, which I fear, that you are——”
“Guilty,” supplemented Kane.
“Yes; oh, Kane, why won’t you tell me?”
“Would you care? Avice, would you really care whether I’m guilty or not?”
The girl looked up at him, a sudden light in her big, dark eyes; “Oh, yes, Kane, I do care.”
“Do you mean it, Avice? My little girl, do you mean it!”
Impulsively, Landon took her hand, and drew her to him, looking deep into her eyes.