An almost hysterical fit of weeping at once followed.... It must have been a half-hour later when she felt Kindelon's face lowered to her own. He had nearly always come, since their engagement, at more or less unexpected hours.
"Some hateful thing has happened," he said very tenderly; "whom have you seen? Why do you sob so, Pauline? Have you seen her? Has Cora Dares been here?"
Pauline almost sprang from her chair, facing him. "Cora Dares," she cried, plaintively and with passion. "Why do you mention her name now?"
Kindelon folded her in his strong arms. "Pauline," he expostulated, "be quiet! I merely thought of what you yourself had told me, and of what I myself had told you? What is it, then, since it is not she? Tell me, and I will listen as best I can."
She soon began to tell him, leaning her head upon his broad breast, falteringly and with occasional severe effort.
"I—I was wrong," she at length finished. "I should not have spoken so rashly, so madly.... But it was all because of you, Ralph—because of my love for you!"
He pressed her more closely within the arms that held her.
"I don't blame you!" he exclaimed. "You were wrong, as you admit that you were wrong ... but I don't blame you!"