"Well?" I asked.
Silver Heels twirled the blue bud in her fingers.
"He said—to—to tell you if I saw you in Pittsburg—to—to—I mean that I was to say to you that Sir William had changed his mind—"
"About what?" I demanded, irritably.
"Our betrothal."
"Our betrothal?"
"Yes. I am not to wed you."
"Of course not," I said, rather blankly; "but I thought Sir William desired it. He said that he did. He said it to me!"
"He no longer wishes it," said Silver Heels.
"Why?"