“This is not fair,” said Doane, still very quiet. “We must talk this out, but not now—not while you are angry.”
“Angry! What in heaven's name is the sense of talking it out! It's settled, isn't it?”
“I'm not sure.”
“That's not so!” The boy seemed to be recovering somewhat now from the first shock of unreason. He turned away to hide the tears in his eyes. “You've admitted to her father, if not to her, that you love her.... Oh, why didn't I see it! Why did I have to be such an awful fool!... She knows it now. And you know as well as I what she'll do. She'll never go against her father's last wish—never. You know that!”
“I recognize that she must be seeing it in that light now, but—”
“Oh, what's the use of talk. You know! For God's sake, let me alone, can't you!”
Doane's brows drew slowly together; but this and a note of something near command in his voice, were the only outward indications of the storm within his breast.
“This is not a time for either you or me to be thinking of ourselves. You may be sure that Hui Fei will not be thinking so. And it may help you to realize that this situation is difficult for me, as it is for you. It is true that Hui Fei's only thought, now, under the stress of this sorrow, will be to submit to her father's every wish. But this stress will pass. There is only one course to take—”
“But—”
“Listen to me! And try to meet the thing like a man. We will wait until this sad business is over. We will at least try to give up thinking of ourselves. I will see that Hui Fei and her sister are cared for by friends.”