“And we can’t be happy—that way. But we can care for each other—always—a great deal, and not make it hard to—to——”
She faltered, the tears creeping one by one over her lids. A light broke upon Winthrop.
“But you don’t understand!” he cried.
“What?” she faltered, looking up at him anxiously, half fearfully, from swimming eyes as he took her hand.
“Dear, there’s no wrong if I——”
Sounds near at hand caused him to stop and glance around. At the gate Julian Wayne was just dismounting from White Queen. Holly drew her hand from Winthrop’s and with a look, eager and wondering, hurried in-doors just as Julian opened the gate. Winthrop sank into his chair and felt with trembling fingers for his cigarette-case. Julian espied him as he mounted the steps and walked along the porch very stiffly and determinedly.
“Good-morning,” said Winthrop.
“Good-morning, sir,” answered Julian. “I have come to apologize for what occurred—for what I did the other night. I intended coming before, but it was impossible.”
“Don’t say anything more about it,” replied Winthrop. “I understand. You acted on a moment’s impulse and my poor horsemanship did the rest. It’s really not worth speaking of.”