“But I heard that Calderwell—” He stopped helplessly.
“You heard that Mr. Calderwell was engaged, very likely. But—it so happens he isn't engaged—to me,” murmured Alice, faintly.
“But, long ago you said—” Arkwright paused, his eyes still keenly searching her face.
“Never mind what I said—long ago,” laughed Alice, trying unsuccessfully to meet his gaze. “One says lots of things, at times, you know.”
Into Arkwright's eyes came a new light, a light that plainly needed but a breath to fan it into quick fire.
“Alice,” he said softly, “do you mean that maybe now—I needn't try to fight—that other tiger skin?”
There was no answer.
Arkwright reached out a pleading hand.
“Alice, dear, I've loved you so long,” he begged unsteadily. “Don't you think that sometime, if I was very, very patient, you could just begin—to care a little for me?”
Still there was no answer. Then, slowly, Alice shook her head. Her face was turned quite away—which was a pity, for if Arkwright could have seen the sudden tender mischief in her eyes, his own would not have become so somber.