"And that is——"
As I again waited for her to speak I looked round the courtyard. A clerk was at work in a first-floor window, and he caught my eye and looked away again. In another window an office boy stood with a pen in his mouth, turning the pages of a ledger. Then, after a while, and very disjointedly, Kitty went on:
"They said you said it yourself, and I—at first I didn't—but then I believed it. I know I was beastly about it once before—then we quarrelled—but I didn't mean what I said then—believe me, I didn't.... And," she went on, "I didn't know who—who—it was.... She never told me—you know what I mean.... I hate myself—now. I suppose I'm jealous—the green-eyed monster, Jeff—but they did say it—said you'd as much as said so yourself—and——"
I was beginning to get impatient with her rambling.
I said "And what?" but I don't think she heard me.
"So that's why I went to Louie herself—to ask her—right out——"
All at once I felt it coming.
"Well?"
But suddenly she buried her face in her hands, and her thin shoulders shook. Again I saw the clerk watching....
"Oh!" she moaned. "Can you ever, ever forgive me?"