"She is not my--I mean, we have broken it off."
"What!" Lady Jim was frankly exasperated. She as a married woman, and he as an engaged man, could platonise to any extent; but he free, and she shortly to be a widow--what then? She would no more make him her husband than she would allow Demetrius to lead her to the altar. And here he was, selfishly placing himself in an eligible position for the very matrimony she declined to contemplate.
"Marjory and I decided we were not suited," he explained, but timidly, because her eyes flashed. "She takes half the income, and marries that fox-hunting ass. I am free with the rest of the money;" he waited for congratulations which never came. "I thought you would be pleased," he blundered.
"And pray why should I be pleased?"
"I believed--I fancied--you--you liked me," he stuttered, growing red.
"Tolerably--as an engaged man."
"Then you've been playing with me?" he cried; "you don't love me?"
"Did I ever tell you so?"
"No; but I thought----"
"Your vanity thought! Go on."