"Harry," she whispered, "I want you to tell me—is it true—what they are all saying—that you have ceased to love me?"
"All saying!" he echoed. "Who is saying it? What old busybodies are sticking their noses in my affairs now?" he cried, with something on his lips that sounded very like an imprecation.
"But it isn't true, is it, Harry?" she breathed. "I should want to die if I thought it was."
"Look here, Dorothy," he cried, "if you want to believe all these mischief-makers tell you, you will have enough to do all through your life. You will have to either believe me or believe them. Now, which shall it be?"
"But answer my question, 'Yes' or 'No?'" pleaded Dorothy. "I—I am waiting for your answer, Harry."
There was a slight rustle in the doorway, and glancing up with a start, Kendal saw Iris Vincent standing there, looking on the tender scene with a scornful smile, and the words he would have answered died away unsaid on his lips.
Chapter XVI.
With a scornful toss of her head, Iris wheeled about. She would not enter the room, though she was just dying to know what they were saying—as Kendal sat in the arm-chair before the glowing coals, while Dorothy knelt on the hassock at his feet.
But that one glance of Iris had proved fatal to Kendal's peace of mind, and the hope swept over his soul that she would not think that he was talking love to Dorothy.
His silence perplexed the girl kneeling at his feet.