"Chelda," he said, wistfully. "Chelda, Chelda!"
She would not turn. He caught only a convulsive movement of her beautiful shoulders.
He must see that face bent so fixedly on the Bay.
"My darling," he murmured, stepping close beside her. He saw her now, thin, wistful, pitiably changed, yet more attractive in her haggard looks than she had ever been in her composure and brilliancy.
In speechless compassion he approached her.
She did not give him her hand. "Were you not told at the house that I preferred to see no one?" she asked, in a dull voice.
"Yes, yes; but I did not heed the warning."
"And you force your society on me?" she said, in the same monotonous way.
"Force it," he repeated, with tender reproach, "Chelda, have you forgotten?"
"I have forgotten nothing," and she again turned her face toward the Bay.