Meanwhile Fantine had slipped to Alagwa’s side. “Men are all fools,” she whispered, hurriedly. “They know not what they want. M. Jack spoke today according to his kind. He thought of no girl in particular. He only had fancies. Be not a fool and say him nay.”
Alagwa clutched the French woman’s arm. “Why did you tell him?” she wailed.
“I told him nothing till he guess for himself. Parbleu! It was time!”
“He guessed? Guessed that I am Estelle Telfair——”
“Non! Non! He knows not that! He knows only that you are a girl and that—Hush! He comes. I must go.” With a nod to Jack, the French woman swept from the room, sweeping Cato before her.
Jack watched her go; then he went to Alagwa’s side and took her hands. “Little comrade,” he said, gently. “You really must marry me.”
“I can not.” The girl spoke so low that Jack could scarcely hear her.
“Why not?” he asked. “You don’t hate me, do you?”
Alagwa’s hands tightened in his. “Oh! No! No!” she breathed. “Not that! Not that!”
“Then why——”