“Can't you guess?”
“No, I can't.”
“Stupid!” Zada murmured. “You poor, stupid boy.”
Charity heard nothing for a long moment—then a gasp.
“Zada!”
She greeted his alarm with a chuckle and a flurry of proud laughter. He bombarded her with questions:
“Why didn't you tell me? How long? What will you do? How could you?—you're no fool.”
Her answers were jumbled with his questions—his voice terrified, hers victorious.
“I've kept it a secret for months, because I was afraid of you. It's my right. It's too late to do anything now. And now we'll see whether you love me or not—and how much, if any.”
There was again silence. Charity could hardly tolerate the suspense. Both she and Zada were hanging breathlessly on Cheever's answer.