“I can’t answer any questions this morning,” she told him. “I promised I wouldn’t.”
“Then there is something wrong!” the young man exclaimed.
He was silent for a long time, staring at the ground, and Lexy waited, with a fast beating heart, for some word that would enlighten her. At last he looked up.
“I’ve got to trust you,” he said simply. “Caroline meant to tell you, anyhow. You see”—he paused—“I’m Charles Houseman, the man she’s going to marry.”
“Oh!” cried Lexy.
“Now you’ll tell me, won’t you?”
She stared and stared at him, filled with amazement and pity. Such a nice-looking, straightforward, manly sort of fellow—and such a look of pain and bewilderment in his blue eyes!
“But—did she say she would marry you?”
“Of course she did! She—look here! You don’t know what I’ve been through. It was I who telephoned last night. I—”
“But why did you? Oh, please tell me! I am Caroline’s friend—truly her friend. I want to understand!”