I asked where everybody was. Jean’s father and mother were away. Yes. Miss Janet was at home, and had been here, but was now upstairs. He did not know if she was coming back.
We relapsed into silence. The Lad took Jean upon his knee. Something made the child feel neglected; neither by holding up her new bronze shoes nor by winking both her eyes could she win the Lad’s attention. He had forgotten us both. Suddenly he lifted the child to his face and kissed her passionately, murmuring, “Janet! Janet!”
I escaped to Janet’s room. The girl was pretending to read. Her lips were tight-set, and her eyes unnaturally bright.
“Do you know that you have a guest downstairs?” I asked.
“It is time that my guest went away,” was her answer.
“You haven’t a very polite way of inducing him to do it,” I said. “Child, what are you doing? Do you know what you are doing?”
She came and put her arms around my neck.
“I am finding out what happens when an insurmountable obstacle is met by an irresistible force. I cannot consent to be the Lad’s wife. I am not happy enough.”
“Don’t you care for him?” I asked.
“Perhaps I care too much to do that,” she answered slowly.