He was a trifle awkward and shy as if he had something on his mind, and at last, without much preliminary, he blurted out, “You’ll give me the supper-dance, won’t you, Eileen? I wanted to ask you before, but I thought you’d think I was so silly to be asking so soon.”
“Oh! I’m sorry, Jack,” with genuine regret for his sake; “I’ve promised it.”
“You’ve promised it!” he echoed in astonishment.
“Yes, this afternoon.”
“To whom?” looking hard into her face.
“To Lawrence Blake,” and she did not meet his eyes.
Jack stood still suddenly, without quite knowing it, and stared across to the mountains. It seemed to him all in a moment as if some grim phantom had suddenly risen, and menaced him for the first time in his life, with a vision of striving and failure.
He ground his teeth together angrily.
“Curse Lawrence Blake,” he muttered, and kicking some pebbles angrily into the lake, strode forward.