“What I say—that I’ve been in love with her ever since I met her.” He was still looking out of the window.
“Steve!” Jacquelin’s tone had changed and was full of deep reproach. As Steve was not looking at him and did not answer, he went on: “Steve, I don’t understand. Does she know?” His throat was dry and his voice hard.
“I don’t know—”
“Steve Allen!” The tone was such that Steve turned to look at him.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“That’s what I have to ask you,” said Jacquelin, sternly. “Are you crazy?”
“I don’t know whether I am or not,” Steve said, half bitterly. “But that’s the fact, anyhow.”
Jacquelin’s face had paled, and his form was tense.
“Steve, if anyone else had told me this of you, he’d not have stood to complete his sentence. I thought you were a gentleman,” he sneered.