"Pah! You pretend to be his friend. How long would you stand here fiddling and fussing, if you didn't want her yourself?"
"That—it is too much!" he said, his face pale and very quiet. "I had ventured to hope that I might overcome your dislike. Now I see that it is as well that you have refused to regard me other than as you have."
"Why, what do you mean? I—I don't understand."
"You have always been candid. Permit me to be the same. The truth is that I had begun to wish Tom success—not alone because of my friendship for him. But now I realize that his fight is hopeless. I shall do my utmost to make your cousin happy."
Dolores stared at him with dilating eyes. "Jimmy!" she whispered. "It can't be you mean that you—that you—?"
"Yes," he answered. "Pardon me for saying anything about it. I shall not bother you again."
"Oh, thank you!" she scoffed. "So now you're going to stay quiet and wait for Vievie to fling herself into your arms when she hears about your rival."
The young Englishman flushed and as suddenly became white, yet his voice was as steady as it was low. "I shall do whatever she wishes, if she finds that she does not love him."
"And that's all?" she jeered. "You'll calmly keep out of it while he commits hara-kiri, and then you'll step into his shoes."
"No. I shall go to her at once and ask her to save my friend—if she loves him."