"Of course. Bound you on your honor not to speak of it, lest my feelings should be hurt. Really, do you know, I think he was almost clever enough to make one sorry he didn't succeed. Well, good-by." She rises abruptly, and, taking Joyce's hand, looks at her for a moment. "Felix Dysart has a good heart," says she, suddenly. As suddenly she kisses Joyce, and, crossing the room with a quick stride, leaves it.
CHAPTER XLIX.
"Shall we not laugh, shall we not weep?"
It is quite four o'clock, and therefore two hours later. Barbara has returned, and has learned the secret of Joyce's pale looks and sad eyes, and is now standing on the hearthrug looking as one might who has been suddenly wakened from a dream that had seemed only too real.
"And you mean to say—you really mean, Joyce, that you refused him?"
"Yes. I actually had that much common-sense," with a laugh that has something of bitterness in it.
"But I thought—I was sure——"
"I know you thought he was my ideal of all things admirable. And you thought wrong."