“No,” she interrupted quickly. “You mustn’t think that. I shan’t change.”
His face fell.
“You don’t mean that there is some one else?” he asked.
For a moment or two she did not answer; then she nodded, without speaking, and put out a hand and touched his arm.
“My dear,” she said, “don’t ask me questions. It is quite possible that I shall never marry the man I love, but I cannot marry any one else. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you cared for me like that. I wish you didn’t. You must put me out of your thoughts.”
He smiled faintly.
“That’s not easily done,” he replied. “Besides, I don’t want to. Like you, I may never marry the girl I love, but at least I cannot love any one else. You are the one and only girl for me. I know. I’m not a moonstruck boy. You’ll let me keep your friendship, won’t you? I won’t take advantage of it.”
Tears came into her eyes. She had never liked him so much as in that moment. The idea of giving up his friendship had not occurred to her until he begged the privilege of retaining it. She did not want to give it up. It was one of the pleasant things in her life.
“I want to continue being friends,” she said. “I’ve grown to look on you as a chum. That’s how I’ve always thought of you. I want to be friends—and to put this other thing out of my thoughts.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “We’ll wipe that out. I made a mistake. You know, dear,”—he felt for her hand and found it and held it tightly,—“I think you are the sweetest girl in the world. I’ll do anything for you. For the present I’m feeling a bit sore, and just for a little while will keep in the background. When I turn up again I’ll be over the worst of it, and you needn’t fear that I shall make a fool of myself. We’ll take things up where we dropped them.”