“Because—because I thought you loved her and she loved you, and I would not——!” He turned off and walked to the window.
Steve rose and went up to him.
“Jacquelin,” he said, putting his hand on his shoulder, and speaking with a new tenderness, “I never knew it—I never dreamed it. You have been blind, boy. And I have been worse. I was never in love with her and she knew it. At first, I simply meant to bedevil you, and—Middleton—and then afterward, used to tease her to see her let out about you; but that was all. She has known ever since Ruth Welch came here that I liked her, and now—that I have become a fool like the rest of you.” He turned away.
Jacquelin stood for a moment looking at him, a light dawning on his face.
“Steve, I beg your pardon for what I said.” He stood lost in thought. The next second he rushed out of the door. In a moment he was back, and held the bill he had just filed, in his hand. Steve rose as he entered.
“What have you done?”
“I may be a fool—but—” He held up the bill and glancing at it, caught hold of the last sheet and began to tear it. Steve made a spring, but was too late; Jacquelin had torn the signature from the paper.
“I’m not such a selfish dog as to let you do it and bar your chance of happiness. I did not know. Do you suppose Miss Welch would ever marry you if you signed that bill?”
“No. But do you suppose I will not tell her of my part in bringing the suit?”
“Of course you will—but she’ll forgive you for that.”