"I would not be so cruel," he answered. "If you have promised yourself to him, he must merit some respect; tell me the story."
So I told Jim just the same story I had told Jasmine that morning. I did not use quite the same words, for he did not take it so calmly. I had never seen his self-possession shaken before. As my story drew to an end he had quite a bowed look, almost like an old man; then he said slowly—
"It was my fault; I should not have gone away. To think that you were subjected to this, and that there was no escape."
"There was no escape," I said. "Could I have done otherwise?"
"God knows, child, I cannot say."
"I could not," I replied slowly. "If you had been me you would have acted as I have done; there are times when one must forget one's self."
"There are, truly," he said.
"Then you are not dreadfully angry with me, Jim?"
"Angry?" he said slowly; "angry? You have not given me the worst pain of all, you have not stepped down from your pedestal, you are still the one woman for me. But oh! Westenra, have I lost you? Have I lost you?"