Even then she did not speak at once. Finally the answer came.
“I am sorry, Russell—oh, I’m so sorry! I never dreamed it!” She glanced up, and the eyes that looked into his were mournful.
He drew a deep breath. “Don’t grieve over it, Polly. I ought to have known how it would be. It’s all right.” He was looking straight ahead, and his voice seemed far away. “I hoped you did care for me—a little; but if you—do not—” The words suddenly halted.
“I am afraid you don’t quite understand. I like you, Russell, I have always liked you; but—there is David!”
“Polly!” He stared at her in amazement. “Surely you do not care for David Collins—after his abominable treatment of you! It is unbelievable.”
A sad little smile fluttered over Polly’s face. “I do love him just as well as ever I did. Those things—happened because he was jealous—and angry. I told him that I could have nothing more to do with him until he would trust me—that’s all. I suppose he isn’t ready to trust me yet.”
Russell shook his head. “I see,” he said grimly. “Forgive me, Polly. I supposed that all was over between you and David. I have made a mess of it.”
“No, no!” Polly hastened to say. “I’m only sorry that you—you—feel as you do. We have always been such good friends.”
He looked down at her with a little sad, tender smile. “And we will”—there was the hint of a break—“be good friends still, won’t we, Polly?”