‘Yes, that day in the cloister. You did care for me then, didn’t you, Marcia—just a little bit? You let me hope—you told me there wasn’t any other man—you’ve been kind to me ever since. That’s what I’ve lived on this whole month—the memory of that afternoon. Tell me what the trouble is—don’t let anything come between us. We’ve had such a happy spring—let it keep on being happy. We’ve lived in Arcady, Marcia—you and I. Why should we ever leave it? Why must we go back—why not go forward? If you cared that afternoon, you can care now. I haven’t changed. Tell me why you hesitate. I don’t want to force you to make up your mind, but this uncertainty is simply hell.’
Marcia listened, breathing fast, half carried away by the impetuous flow of his words. She sat watching him with troubled eyes and silent lips in a sort of stupor. She could not collect her thoughts sufficiently to answer him. What had she to say? she asked herself wildly. What could she say that was adequate?
Paul, bending forward, his eyes close to hers, was waiting expectantly, insistently, for her to speak, when suddenly they were startled by a step on the gravel path before them, and they both looked up to see Laurence Sybert, cigarette in hand, stroll around the corner of the ilex walk. As his eye fell upon them he stopped like a man shot, and for a breathless instant the three faced one another. Then, with a quick rigidity of his whole figure, he bowed an apology and wheeled about. Marcia turned from red to white and snatched her hand away.
Paul watched her a moment with an angry light growing in his eyes. ‘You are in love with Laurence Sybert!’ he whispered.
Marcia shrank back in the corner and hid her face against the back of the seat. Paul bent over her.
‘Look at me,’ he cried; ‘tell me it’s not true. You can’t do it! You’ve been deceiving me. You’ve been lying! Oh, yes, I know you’ve been very careful not to make any promises in so many words, but you’ve made them in other ways, and I believed you. I’ve been fool enough to think you in earnest, and all the time you’ve been amusing yourself!’
Marcia raised her eyes to his. ‘Paul, I haven’t. You are mistaken. I don’t know how I’ve changed; I can’t explain. That day in the cloister I thought I liked you very much. And if Margaret hadn’t come in, perhaps—I wouldn’t have deceived you for a moment, and you know it.’
‘Tell me you don’t love Sybert.’
‘Paul, you have no right——’
‘I have no right! You said there was no one else, and I believed you; and now, when I ask for an explanation, you tell me to go about my business. I suppose you were beginning to get tired of me these last few days, and thought——’