"Yes," he replied in a low voice, "I was."
"Would you mind telling me whether that engagement still exists?"
His face quivered with pain as he turned it to her.
"I cannot answer you," he said; "I do not know. To me it exists solemnly and sacredly. I do not know what Doris thinks."
Her voice was wonderfully soft and gentle as she continued:
"I know that I am paining you; I am sorry for it. Was there any quarrel between you when you parted?"
"No," he replied, "there was no quarrel."
"How was it?" she asked, gently. "Do not fear to tell me."
"I do not know; I was not good enough for her, perhaps—not bright and eloquent enough. Perhaps I loved her too dearly. She was the life of my life. She may have got tired of my mad, passionate love—only God knows. She left me."
"How did she leave you?" persisted the sweet, pitiless voice.