He regarded her contemplatively for a second, and then looked deliberately away.
“I don’t fancy I belong to the marrying sort,” he said.
“Oh, nonsense!” returned Pamela brightly. “Every one is the marrying sort when he meets the right person.”
“Yes! Then I imagine the right person hasn’t revealed herself.”
“You should go in search of her,” she said.
“I did once—five years ago.”
“Yes?” Pamela looked at him with a gleam of feminine interest in her deep eyes. “Five years ago you went in search of her... And then?...”
“She had run away,” he said, “and was married to some one else.”
“Oh!” Her voice had a disappointed ring. This that she was hearing was altogether the wrong kind of a finish to an interesting romance. “Then she wasn’t the right person after all.”
“She was for me,” he replied with quiet conviction. “But, you see, both sides have a voice in these matters.”