"How sorry poor mamma will be!"
"And you?" he asked curiously.
Roma had drawn so close to him that she could speak in an undertone. She locked her jeweled fingers nervously together now in her lap, and lifted her great eyes to his, full of piercing reproach, murmuring sadly:
"It does not matter to me either way, Jesse. I have lost interest in everything, now that you have turned against me!"
It was most embarrassing, her pathetic grief, and it touched his manly heart with deepest pity.
"My dear girl, I am sorry you take our estrangement so hardly! Believe me, I have not turned against you, as you think. I am still sincerely your friend," he answered, most kindly.
But the great red-brown eyes searched his face with passion.
"Oh, Jesse, I do not want your friendship! I want your love—the love I threw away in the madness of a moment! Give it back to me!" she cried, with outstretched hands pleading to him.
Impulsively he took one of the jeweled hands in his, holding it nervously yet kindly while he said:
"It is cruel kindness to undeceive you, Roma, but I cannot let you go on hoping for what can never be! You never had my heart's love, Roma. It was only an ephemeral fancy that is long since dead. I thought you wished to flirt with me, and I entered into it with languid amusement. Somehow—I never can quite understand how—I drifted into a proposal. I regretted it directly afterward, and realized that my heart was not really interested. You broke our engagement, and I was glad of it. Forgive my frankness and let us be friends!"