“Philip has done that?” she asked.
He nodded sorrowfully.
“That is what it amounts to. You remember what you once said: that he might do the irrevocable thing that would cut him off from us for good and all?”
“I remember.”
“Well, it is done; or the same as done.”
She drew a quick breath. “Tell me, Harry.”
“I will, but only because you’d have to know it anyhow, a little later. This morning he took out a marriage license for himself and a—a—I can’t name the woman for you, Jean. I suppose they are married by this time. Will you believe me when I say that I did everything I could think of to prevent it?”
There was no answer to this, and when he looked aside at her again he saw that she was crying quietly, and his heart grew hot.
“Don’t cry,” he broke out almost roughly. “He isn’t worth it, Jean.”
“Yes, he is,” she faltered. “You don’t know him as I do, Harry; though you have been more to him and closer to him than I ever could be. I know why he has done this.”