“I think not. You will tell her better. It is this: Poor Haynes had not a year to live. He knew this himself.”
“How did you know?” asked the girl incredulously.
“He told me of the disease that was killing him. It was when I asked him whether I might send for Everard to come down.”
“Then you let me accuse you wrongly,” she said very low. “Why did you not tell me that Mr. Haynes knew of Everard’s coming? Was it fair in you to let me be so unfair? I am ashamed of myself for the way I spoke to you. I have been ashamed——”
She raised her appealing eyes to his and moved a step nearer him. Dick held his breath like a man afraid of dispelling some entrancing vision.
“I did not mean it,” she went on bravely, though her eyes fell before his look. “When I saw how it hurt you I was sorry.”
“It is for me to beg your pardon,” said Dick hoarsely, “for believing your words against what my own heart told me of you. You know why it hurt me so?”
“Yes,” she said, in sweet acceptance of his reason.
“Dolly, do you care at all?” he cried, stretching out his hands to her.
“I don’t know,” she faltered. “Don’t ask me yet. It has been so short a time. I must speak of Helga now.”