"Then what event, what happy event, was to have happened in this month, shall happen if God wills?"
"My marriage," she sighed.
"Yes, yes," he cried earnestly; "your marriage, dear—your marriage with whom?"
She twisted the blue-starred sprig between her white fingers until it wilted.
"You say you are my best friend, Hubert?" she murmured.
"You should know it, dear."
"Then I will confide in you. If—if my marriage is to take place this month—"
"Yes, yes, this month! Whom are you to marry?"
"Loyd."
The name escaped her blanched lips almost inaudibly; but his eager ear caught it, and he recoiled from her with a gasp, as though she had stung him.