“My darling! What has happened?” she asked. “Why are you here at this hour? You look dreadfully ill!–––”
Palla’s head dropped on her breast.
“What is it?” whispered Ilse. “Darling––darling––you did––you did wait––didn’t you?”
Palla’s voice was scarcely audible: “I don’t know what you mean.... I was only frightened about you.... I’ve been so unhappy.... And Jim said––good-bye––and I can’t––find him–––”
“I want you to answer me! Are you in love with him?”
“No.... I don’t––think so–––”
Ilse drew a deep breath.
“It’s all right, then,” she said.
Then, suddenly, Palla seemed to understand what Ilse had meant when she had said, “Wait!”
And she lifted her head and looked blindly into the sea-blue eyes––blindly, desperately, striving to see through those clear soul-windows what it might be that was looking out at her.