"Patty, are you ill?" hastening toward her.
"I have a very bad headache," coldly. "You wished to see me?"
Where were all the tender words he had planned to speak? Patty had been weeping!
"You have been crying. What has happened?" anxiously.
"It can not interest you," wearily. Men! She would have a horror of them for the rest of her days.
"Not interest me? Don't you know, haven't you seen by this time, that you interest me more than any other living being or any angel in Heaven?"
Patty caught at the portiere to steady herself. She had not expected declarations of this kind.
"Don't you know," he hurried on, his voice gaining in passion and tenderness, "don't you know that a pain to you means triple pain to me? Don't you know that I love you? Patty, what is the trouble? You are not a woman to weep over headaches."
"Do you wish to know, then?" bitterly. She hated him! How could he stand there telling her that he loved her? "Read this," presenting the letter. "I despise you!"
"Despise me? What in God's name is the matter?"