His face cleared on the instant, and he placed a hand soothingly on hers.
“That should not make any girl unhappy,” he remarked sagely. “Because you don't love him is no reason—of course, you don't love him?”
Loretta shook her head and shoulders in a vigorous negative.
“What?”
Bashford wanted to make sure.
“No,” she asserted explosively. “I don't love Billy! I don't want to love Billy!”
“Because you don't love him,” Bashford resumed with confidence, “is no reason that you should be unhappy just because he has proposed to you.”
She sobbed again, and from the midst of her sobs she cried—
“That's the trouble. I wish I did love him. Oh, I wish I were dead!”
“Now, my dear child, you are worrying yourself over trifles.” His other hand crossed over after its mate and rested on hers. “Women do it every day. Because you have changed your mind or did not know your mind, because you have—to use an unnecessarily harsh word—jilted a man—”