“I shall never forget!” said Adrian fiercely. “And I could not pretend to Deb. She would guess the truth.”
“But it would be such a dreadful thing for you to do!” whispered Phoebe.
His lordship was almost as pale as she. “Yes. I know,” he said. “But she has not said yet that she will marry me. Perhaps—perhaps she does not mean to.”
She looked astonished. “But I thought—you told me—”
“Yes, yes, but it was never said in so many words! She used to laugh at me when I asked her to marry me. Then—then it did seem to me that she had changed towards me, and I thought too—But it is true that she has never yet said it. Phoebe, do you think that she cares for me?”
“Oh, how can she not?” Phoebe exclaimed.
“Well, I do not think that she does. Lately she has been—oh, not cross, but—but different!”
A shocking thought presented itself to Miss Laxton.
“Adrian, can it be that she suspects, and is jealous, or—or hurt?”
Their eyes met; his lordship’s chin seemed to harden. “We must tell her the truth.”