"Wolf, I'll never love any one more than I do you!" the girl said, passionately. "You've always been an angel to me—always the best friend I ever had. I know you—I know what you are to Rose, Aunt Kate, and what the men at the factory think of you. I'm not fit to tie your shoes! I'm wicked, and selfish, and—and everything I oughtn't to be! But I can't help it. I've wanted you to know—all there was to know. I've met him, and we've talked and walked together; that's all. And that's all we want—just to be friends. I'm sorry——" Her voice trailed off on a sob. "I'm awfully sorry!" she said.
"Yes," Wolf said, slowly, after a pause, "I'm sorry, too!"
He sat down, rumpling his hair, frowning. Norma, watching him fearfully, noticed that he was very pale.
"I thought we were so happy," he said again, simply.
"Ah, Wolf, don't think I've been fooling all this summer!" his wife pleaded, her eyes filling afresh. "I've loved it all—the peach ice-cream, and the picnics, and everything. But—but people can't help this sort of thing, can they? It does happen, and—and they just simply have to make the best of it, don't they? If—if we go to California next month—you know that I'll do everything I can——!"
He was not listening to her.
"Norma," he interrupted, sharply, "if Liggett's wife was out of the way—would you want to marry him?"
"Wolf!—what's the use of asking that? You only—you only excite us both. Aunt Alice isn't out of the way, and even if she were, I am your wife. I'm sorry. I'll never meet him again—I haven't been a bit happy about it. I'll promise you that I will not see him again."
"I don't ask you for that promise," Wolf said. "I don't know what we can do! I never should have let you—I shouldn't have been such a fool as to—but somehow, I'd always dreamed that you and I would marry. Well!"—he interrupted his musing with resolute cheerfulness—"I've got to get over to the library to-night," he said, "for I may have to start for Phily to-morrow afternoon. Will you tell Mother——"