“Happened! What should have happened? What an absurd question to ask, Graeme.”
“Harry, why are you so determined to leave him? It was not so a little while ago.”
“Was it not? Oh, well! I daresay not. But one wants a change. One gets tired of the same dull routine, always. Now, Graeme,” added he, as she made an incredulous gesture, “don’t begin to fancy any mystery. That would be too absurd, you know.”
Graeme came and knelt close beside him. His face was turned away so that she could not see it. Her own was very pale.
“Harry, speak to me. Do you believe that Allan Ruthven is otherwise than an honourable and upright gentleman in business and—in other matters? Tell me, Harry.”
“Oh, yes! as gentlemen go. No, Graeme, that is not right. I believe him in all things to be upright and honourable. I think more highly of him than I did at first. It is not that.”
The colour came slowly back to Graeme’s face. It was evident that Harry had no foolish thoughts of her and Allan. In a little she said,—
“And you, Harry—you have not—you are—”
“I hope I am an honourable man, Graeme,” said Harry, gravely. “There is nothing between Mr Ruthven and me. I mean, he does not wish me to leave him. But I must go, Graeme. I cannot stay here.”
“Harry, why? Tell me.” Graeme laid her hand caressingly on his hair.