"You are not going to New York now! What is the use, when I am already here?" she cried, in dismay.
Then Ronald answered, with a slight flush:
"Excuse me, Violet. At the risk of seeming rude, I must tell you I was not going after you exactly. I am publishing another volume of poetry, and I was going to New York on urgent business."
"You were going to see Jaquelina!" Violet broke out, in a sudden passion of anger and jealousy. And then she threw herself on a sofa and burst into bitter weeping.
Ronald stood looking at her in amazement. He did not kneel down by her and kiss away the tears, as she expected him to do. He said, sadly and gravely:
"Violet, this is quite unworthy of you. You must remember that Lina herself gave me to you."
"I have small pleasure in the gift," she retorted. "I but seldom see you."
The passionate complaint opened Ronald's eyes. He bent down and touched his affianced's cheek with his lips while he said, quietly:
"Violet, when I return from New York I shall ask you to name our wedding day. You must think about it while I am gone."
"When—when will you return?" sobbed Violet, with a smile struggling through her tears.