"Why, of course she can't!" he cried. "And it is true. She is engaged—to a fellow of the name of Alfred."
"You know that as a fact?" she exclaimed.
"I know it from her own lips, and I need not say that I should be the last person to wish to—er—upset so desirable an arrangement."
"Why—why didn't you tell me all this before?" she inquired.
"I—I didn't think it would interest you," he replied.
Here, to Peter's utter astonishment, she covered her face with her hands.
"Not interest me!" she murmured at last. "Oh, how could you—how could you keep this from me? Can't you see—can't you guess what a difference it has made in my feelings?"
It might be very dull of him, but he could not perceive why the fact of Miss Davenport's engagement to Alfred should affect Miss Tyrrell so strangely as this!
"I may call you 'Peter' now," she said. "Oh, Peter, how happy you have made me! Why did you keep silence so long? It was too quixotic! Don't you understand even yet?"
"No," said Peter blankly, "I'm afraid I don't."