“How?” A single syllable seemed the most Jim’s lips, for the moment, could manage.
“Billy told me. He and Ronald Ingram came over yesterday afternoon, soon after you left. They had passed you, on your way to the station. They thought I ought to know. So Billy told me.”
Jim Airth’s arms closed round her, holding her tightly.
“My—poor—girl!” he said, brokenly.
“They meant well, Jim. They are dear boys. They knew you would come back and tell me yourself; and they wanted to spare us both that pain. I am glad they did it. You were quite right when you said it had to be faced alone. I could not have been ready for your return, if I had not heard the truth, and had time to face it alone. I am ready now, Jim.”
Jim Airth laid his cheek against her soft hair, with a groan.
“I have come to say good-bye, Myra. It is all that remains to be said.”
“Good-bye?” Myra raised a face of terrified questioning.
Jim Airth pressed it back to its hiding-place upon his breast.
“I am the man, Myra, whose hand you could never bring yourself to touch in friendship.”