"Doctor Strong!"
"Miss Blyth!"
"You—thought—I had had a disappointment in love?"
"I did!"
"You are mistaken. You misunderstood my aunt, or me, or both. I have never, any more than you—"
Her voice grew stronger, and she sat upright.
"It was so very funny—no, I am not going off again—but I think there was some excuse for me this time. You certainly are having every opportunity of studying my case, Doctor Strong. The truth is—oh, I supposed it had been made clear to you; how could I suppose anything else? It was my career, my life, that I had to give up, not—not a man. You say you have never been what is called in love; Doctor Strong, no more have I!"
There was silence, and now it was in Geoffrey's face that the tide rose. Such a burning tide it was, he fancied he heard the blood hiss as it curled round the roots of his hair. He noted this as curious, and remembered that in hanging or drowning it was the trifles that stamped themselves upon the mind. Also, it appeared that he was hollow, with nothing but emptiness where should have been his vital parts.
"Shall I say anything?" he asked, presently. "There isn't anything to say, is there, except to beg your pardon? would you like to hear that I am a fool? But you know that already. Your aunt—things were said that were curiously misleading—not that that is any excuse—Do you want me to go into detail, or may I drown myself quietly?"
"Oh! don't," said Vesta, smiling. "I could not possibly paddle myself home, and I should infallibly upset the canoe in trying to rescue you."