"Not know you love him! Do you mean that Spoof doesn't know you love him?"
"No, he doesn't, Frank."
"And he has not made love to you?"
"Not a word."
I stood pondering that fact. If Spoof, without trying, could win Jean in competition with me, who had been trying my hardest, and who had the advantage of all the intimacies of childhood, what would happen when he set himself to the business of wooing? That he would do so as soon as he knew the coast was clear I did not doubt for a moment.
"I think I understand, Jean," I said, as I turned toward the door. "This happiness is not for me—it was too much to be expected. I had dreams—dreams that are not going to be realized, ever. I had pictures, but they must be torn out of my life. . . I hope you will be happy. Goodbye."
"Oh, Frank, don't go like that!" she cried, her arms outstretched toward me. But I had no heart to prolong my torture in her presence. I closed the door behind me and went stumbling through the drifts toward Fourteen.
CHAPTER XVII.
Breaking the news to Jack and Marjorie was no easy task, but we got through it some way. Jack and his sister had an unhappy hour over it, but Jean was adamant in her decision. There was to be no marriage, so far as she was concerned. It was out of the question.
"You are passing up as decent a chap as ever lived," Jack told her, "on a chance of Spoof, and you don't know that he even cares for you. Perhaps Spoof's affections are already fixed. Have you thought of that?"