He was frightened and disconcerted. He knew women were liable to such curious attacks, but he had never before witnessed one. It made him so sorry for her weakness and inferiority. Poor little thing! Poor emotional, unbalanced Woman!
“I say!” he said, “What is it? Please don’t cry!”
The huddled little figure didn’t reply, kept on weeping in a muffled sort of way.
“Please tell me!” he entreated. He went so far as to pat her shoulder, while he cast about for something to say or to do.
“Is it on account of Frankie?” he asked.
She raised a miserable, tear-stained face and looked straight at him.
“No!” she cried. “I—I thought I was able—to give you up—but oh, I can’t!”
“Give me up!” exclaimed the astonished Lionel.
Her great black eyes, their long lashes wet and heavy with tears, were fixed upon his face with solemn intensity.
“Yes!” she said, firmly.