He was beside her now—only her head was lowered and averted and he could not look into her face. Her fingers were plucking tremulously at a fold of her dress. He caught her hand between both his own.
“Claire—Claire, I love you!” he whispered.
She disengaged her hand gently; and, still refusing to let him see her face, shook her head slowly.
“I—I——-” Her voice was very low. “Oh, don't you know?”
“I know I love you,” he answered passionately. “I know that nothing else but that matters.”
Again she shook her head.
“I thought perhaps he would have told you. I—I am going to marry Doctor Crang.”
John Bruce stepped back involuntarily; and for a moment incredulity and helpless amazement held sway in his expression—then his lips tightened in a hurt, half angry way.
“Is that fair to me, Claire—to give me an answer like that?” he said in a low tone. “I know it isn't true, of course; it couldn't be—but—but it isn't much of a joke either, is it?”
“It is true,” she said monotonously.