She interrupted him: “I know. You are so good. I don’t deserve it. I couldn’t blame you if you hated me.”
“I don’t hate you, Mary. I love you. I don’t care what they say. I don’t care what you said on the office steps that day. I love you.”
“You mustn’t talk that way any more, Barry. I mustn’t let you. I ought never to have let you talk that way, or think that way. I did you a wrong. In my eagerness for revenge on others I did you a great wrong. I am sorry now. It was wicked in me to deceive you.”
“Yes, that’s what they say to me. They always told me you were deceiving me. It doesn’t matter if you were. I harbor no resentment nor jealousy. I’ll start in all over again. I’ll begin my courtship anew, if you’ll let me. And I’ll teach you to outlive your love for the other fellow. That’s what I came to tell you to-night.”
“Barry, you have a heart of gold.”
“Yes. You know that other fellow is impossible, Mary. He has a wife and children. And he’s a good man. No better man ever lived.”
“That’s true, Barry. Oh, that’s very true. He’s too good to have been made the victim of my reckless folly. But I thought they had killed him. I thought they had killed him, and I was wild. I know he wasn’t killed, but I haven’t heard from him for two days. The suspense has been terrible. Barry, tell me what you know about him. Have you seen him?”
Her hands, lying on the table, were clasped tightly together, and she looked across at him as though she were ready to devour his anticipated words.
“Why, yes,” replied Barry. “I went to see him Saturday. He had a bad wound on his head, but the doctor fixed him up all right, and he’ll get over it in a few days. In fact he held service yesterday as usual.”
She gave a great sigh of relief.