"To us!..." she repeated his words slowly. "Are you asking me to ... marry you, Peter?"
The words were jerky. Her gray eyes were fixed still on the garden ahead as though she dared not look at him.
"Yes," he said simply—"I love you, Jill."
But she sat like a maiden turned to stone, untouched, unresponsive.
The cold hand of fear crept round his heart as he watched her face.
Was she going to refuse him? Could it be—after all—Bethune!
"Jill—" his voice was very low—"Aren't you going to answer me?" He bent closer—"Don't you ... care?"
She stirred restlessly under his eyes, her own averted. Then she spoke.
"Why should you think ... I cared for you?" Unconsciously her hand stole to her throat, feeling for the chain that hung concealed by the lace of her collar; and, noting the gesture, McTaggart divined her secret thought.
Light poured in, dispelling his fears. That scene at Cluar ... the "double heart!" that lay upon her girlish breast.