“Am I pale, then?” she answered. “I suppose I must be. It is nothing but a trifle of headache, and,” with a hesitant laugh, “that I half fancied you had come to tell me something unpleasant.”
He was silent for a moment,—so silent that she looked up at him with a startled face.
“It is something unpleasant!” she exclaimed. “You have come with ill news, and you are afraid to begin.”
“Not so bad as that,—not afraid, but rather reluctant,” he answered. “It is not pleasant news; and but that I felt it would be wisest to warn you at once, I would rather any one else had brought it. I have stumbled upon a disagreeable report.”
“Report!” Dolly echoed, and her thoughts flew to Mollie again.
“Don't be alarmed,” he said. “It is only a disagreeable one because the subject of it has managed to connect himself with some one whose happiness we value.”
Dolly rose from her chair and stood up, turning even paler than before.
“This some one whose happiness we value is Mollie,” she said. “And the report you have heard is about Mr. Gerald Chandos. Am I not right?”
“Yes,” he returned, “you are right. The hero of the report is Gerald Chandos.”
“What has he been doing?” she asked, sharply. “Don't hesitate, please. I want to know.”