He saw her, and his face lighted up. She smiled, nodded, hurried through the billiard room, and disappeared into the hall beyond. As she turned its angle her knees became shaky and her face white. Then Wallingford suddenly appeared at the conservatory door. He came toward her as if he were going to pass without stopping. But he halted.
“Well?” he said.
She leaned against the wall. Her throat was dry and her eyelids were trembling.
“What is it?” he asked gently.
She hung her head.
“Don’t be afraid to say it to me,” he urged. “There isn’t anything you couldn’t say to me.”
“Do you—do you—do you care for me?” she said, in a queer little choked, squeaky voice.
He laughed slightly, and came close to her and looked down at her. “You’re the only thing in all this world I do care for,” he said. “Why?”
“Oh, nothing—don’t follow me,” and she darted back toward the billiard room.
