"I wish that we were going back to Braster to-morrow," she said suddenly. "Everything and everybody is different here. You seem to spend most of your time trying to avoid me, and—Colonel Ray, I do not know what is the matter with him, but he has become like a walking tragedy."
"I have not tried to avoid you," I said. "I—"
Then I stopped short. Her eyes were fixed upon mine and the lie stuck in my throat. I went on desperately.
"I think," I said, "that if you fancy Colonel Ray is different you should ask him about it."
She shook her head dejectedly.
"I cannot," she said. "Sometimes I am frightened of Colonel Ray. It is like that just now."
"But you should try and get over it," I said gently. "He has strange moods, but you should always remember that he is the man whom you are going to marry. There ought to be every confidence between you, and I know—yes, I know that he is very fond of you."
She leaned a little forward. Her hair was a little dishevelled, her face was almost haggard. Her under lip was quivering like a child's.
"I am afraid of him," she sobbed out suddenly. "I am afraid of him, and
I have promised to marry him. Can't somebody—help me?"
Her head fell suddenly forward and was buried in her hands. Her whole frame shook with convulsive weeping, and then suddenly a little white hand shot out towards me. She did not look up, but the hand was there, timid, yet inviting. I dropped on my knee by her side, and I held it in mine.