“You are putting me in a difficult position,” Paul answered. “If he would dare so much, he would be the man to dare to decide for himself.”
Derrick tossed the paper-knife aside.
“And you know that I am the person in question. I have so defied the world, in spite of myself at first, I must confess. I have confronted the possibility of loving Joan Lowrie until I do love her. So there the case stands.”
Gradually there dawned upon the Curate's mind certain remembrances connected with Joan. Now and then she had puzzled and startled him, but here, possibly, might be a solution of the mystery.
“And Joan Lowrie herself?” he asked, questioningly.
“Joan Lowrie herself,” said Derrick, “is no nearer to me to-day than she was a year ago.”
“Are you,”—hesitatingly,—“are you quite sure of that?”
The words had escaped his lips in spite of himself.
Derrick started and turned toward him with a sudden movement
“Grace!” he said.