“I hate to go and leave you alone,” he said at last from the door. “Have you any idea when Palmer will be back?”
“Not the slightest. K., will you come here a moment? Stand behind me; I don't want to see you, and I want to tell you something.”
He did as she bade him, rather puzzled.
“Here I am.”
“I think I am a fool for saying this. Perhaps I am spoiling the only chance I have to get any happiness out of life. But I have got to say it. It's stronger than I am. I was terribly unhappy, K., and then you came into my life, and I—now I listen for your step in the hall. I can't be a hypocrite any longer, K.”
When he stood behind her, silent and not moving, she turned slowly about and faced him. He towered there in the little room, grave eyes on hers.
“It's a long time since I have had a woman friend, Christine,” he said soberly. “Your friendship has meant a good deal. In a good many ways, I'd not care to look ahead if it were not for you. I value our friendship so much that I—”
“That you don't want me to spoil it,” she finished for him. “I know you don't care for me, K., not the way I—But I wanted you to know. It doesn't hurt a good man to know such a thing. And it—isn't going to stop your coming here, is it?”
“Of course not,” said K. heartily. “But to-morrow, when we are both clear-headed, we will talk this over. You are mistaken about this thing, Christine; I am sure of that. Things have not been going well, and just because I am always around, and all that sort of thing, you think things that aren't really so. I'm only a reaction, Christine.”
He tried to make her smile up at him. But just then she could not smile.