“You don’t take one bit of care of yourself!” she said suddenly, in an angry, trembling voice. “I know perfectly well you’ve been smoking too much, and I know you didn’t eat a proper lunch. Just look at you!”
He was startled.
“There’s nothing the matter with me, dear girl,” he said. “It’s only—”
“I wish you could see yourself!” she cried. “You have a big black smudge on your chin!”
“Well, that’s not fatal,” he said, beginning to laugh; but then he saw tears in her eyes. “Jacko! You’re nervous and upset. You’re overworked. You’re tired. You’re—Jacko, you look like the devil!”
“Thank you![Pg 206]”
“I can’t stand it,” he went on doggedly, “and I won’t stand it! I want to take care of you!”
“You said you wouldn’t be silly, Barty!”
“Silly!” said he. “I’ve been a fool! I won’t go on like this. If you love me at all, if you care for me even a little, you won’t ask me to.”
They had entered the park, and were walking down their usual path at their usual brisk pace, only that to-day Barty held her by the arm, like a captive, and their customary friendly conversation failed. The hour she had dreaded had come.