But her face dropped into her hands with a choking sob, her whole frame shaking with emotion, and he could only gaze upon her in silent sympathy, feeling himself a brute that he could not give the love she craved.
Roma remained several moments in this attitude of hopeless grief, then, rising with her handkerchief to her eyes, glided slowly past him—so slowly that he might have clasped her in outstretched arms had he chosen.
But he remained mute and motionless, sorrow and sympathy in his heart, but nothing more.
Sobbing forlornly, Roma passed him by, and went to her own room.
There Dolly had an exhibition of her imperious temper, culminating in a threat to slap her face.
Dolly's quick temper flamed up, and she retorted fiercely:
"Slap me if you dare, and I'll leave your service on the spot! Yes, and I'll go and tell Mr. Devereaux the fate of his letter to Liane Lester, too! I—I—wish I hadn't never had anything to do with you, either. I'm sorry I treated sweet Liane so mean! She was a heap nicer than you!"
Roma turned around quickly, holding out a pretty ring with a little diamond in it.
"Don't leave me, Dolly; at least, not yet," she sighed mournfully. "I'm sorry I was cross to you. Forgive me, and let's be friends again. Take this little ring to remember me, for I shall never need it after to-night!"
"What do you mean, Miss Roma?" cried the girl, slipping the ring coquettishly over her finger, but Roma threw herself face downward on a sofa without replying.