“Very well. I only meant—Tell me this, if you will: Is there someone you do care for?”
She did not answer. I had offended her again. She had cause to be offended. What business was it of mine?
“I beg your pardon,” I said, humbly. “I should not have asked that. I have no right to ask it. But if there is someone for whom you care in that way and he cares for you, it—”
“Oh, don't, don't! He doesn't.”
“Then there is someone?”
She was silent. I tried to speak like a man, like the man I was pretending to be.
“I am glad to know it,” I said. “If you care for him he must care for you. He cannot help it. I am sure you will be happy by and by. I can leave you here now with more—with less reluctance. I—”
I could not trust myself to go on, although I tried to do so. She answered, without looking at me.
“Yes,” she said, “you can leave me now. I am safe and—and happy. Good-by.”
I took her hand.