“Don’t you understand, dear?”
“No,” faltered the poor girl.
“I hoped you could understand without obliging me to speak. I hoped you would guess when I refused to discuss certain matters with you—I made you angry, and I’m sorry.”
“I know I meddled—”
“My dear, I understood you all the time! I understood my old school friend, too!” She reached out her hand and drew me close to Kama. “He has been very noble in his help in a great trial in my family, dear! I owe my happiness to him. And I’m speaking out, rather boldly—rather bluntly, because I want to help him in obtaining his great happiness. I know what must happen to make him happy.” She put Kama’s hand in mine. “Now, my dear, do not force me to disparage one of the best young men I have ever known by telling you that I never dreamed of him as a husband—nor was I anything else to him except a school-day fancy, a—”
“An inspiration to set me on the way to make something of myself,” I insisted.
“And now—say it, Ross Sidney, or you’re a coward—say it, and let me hear it! She deserves it!”
“I have found out that real love differs from boyhood fancies—and I—I—want to—”
She gently pushed us toward the door while I was stammering.
“You want to tell a dear girl the sweetest story in the world, Ross Sidney! My blessing on you both. Good night!”