He went straight to the two who were sitting under the big tree, and spoke directly:
“What does this mean, Maida? Your mother tells me you——”
“Let me answer,” spoke up Keefe, gaily; “it means that Miss Wheeler has promised to marry me. And we ask your congratulations.”
“Are you not aware,” Jeff’s face was white but his voice was controlled and steady, “that Miss Wheeler is my fiancée?”
“Hardly that,” demurred Keefe. “I believe there was what is called an understanding, but I’m assured it has never been announced. However, the lady will speak for herself.”
“Go away, Jeff,” Maida pleaded; “please, go away.”
“Not until you tell me yourself, Maida, what you are doing. Why does Mr. Keefe say these things?”
“It is true.” Maida’s face was as white as Allen’s. “I am going to marry Mr. Keefe. If you considered me bound to you, I—hereby break it off. Please go away!” the last words were wrung from her in a choked, agonized voice, as if she were at the end of her composure.
“I’m going,” Allen said, and went off in a daze.
He was convinced of one thing only. That Maida was in the power of something or some person—some combination of circumstances that forced her to this. He had no doubt she meant what she said; had no doubt she would really marry Keefe—but he couldn’t think she had ceased to love him—her own Jeffrey! If he thought that, he was ready to die!