"Of course I'll forgive you," returned Manton, magnanimously. He would have forgiven her anything. He could not believe her capable of anything which would need forgiveness. She came to him again and stood before him, looking down.
John, out of politeness, that she should not be standing when he was seated, stood up, and suddenly he felt Elaine's hand in his.
"Bernard," she whispered, "you care for me still——"
"I care for you more than ever I did," said John. He tried valiantly to slip his hand from hers.
"You love me, I mean?"
Elaine's face was upturned; there was a wistful expression in her fine, grey eyes, and there was something more than wistfulness. John could see it shining there. Inwardly he was conscientiously cursing the Fates that had placed him in this impossible position—and yet outwardly he was glad. He was thrilled and happy that this situation had arisen. Then his thoughts took a turn, and his spirits sank. The love he saw shining in her eyes was not for him, but for Bernard Treves. He put away her hand and moved back in his chair.
"You do love me, Bernard?" she whispered again.
"Yes," John answered. He was convinced that there was no other thing for him to say.
"And you'll forgive me for sending you away?"
John nodded.