"Now, don't start all over again," Blake cautioned them. "You are mad about each other—"
"Nothing of the sort," declared Felicite.
"At least Bernie worships you."
The girl fell silent and beamed openly upon her lover.
"Why don't you two end this sort of misunderstanding and—marry?"
Miss Delord paled at this bold question. Dreux gasped and flushed dully, but seemed to find no words.
"That is impossible," he said, finally.
"It's nothing of the sort," urged Blake. "You think you're happy this way, but you're not and never will be. You're letting the best years of your lives escape. Why care what people say if you're happy with each other and unhappy when apart?"
To his surprise, the girl turned upon him fiercely. "Do not torture Bernie so," she cried. "There are reasons why he cannot marry. I love him, he adores me; that is enough." Two tears gathered and stole down her smooth cheeks. "You are cruel to hurt him so, M'sieu."
"Bernie, you're a coward!" Blake said, with some degree of feeling, but the girl flew once more to her lover's defense.