“Jack—why, Jack, what a question to ask! Roy is my twin. He is more to me than all the whole world beside. He always will be more. If I did not see Roy for fifteen years—for fifty years!—it would make no difference! Oh, none whatever! Never in my life shall I care for another as I care for Roy!”
Jack laughed in his turn derisively.
“Never, never, never!” repeated Molly. “I love my father and my mother dearly, and I love Polly, and I like you too, Jack. But Roy—Roy is more to me than all. If I could see Roy——”
“That is vastly well, Molly! But wait—wait till your time shall come—till somebody will be more to you than even Roy.”
“Never!” reiterated Molly. “You mean that one day I shall have a particular preference for—for some gallant gentleman, Jack. Nay, but I shall never marry, for I could not care for any beyond my caring for Roy. And so that matter is for ever settled!”
Jack was silent—perhaps a degree nettled by Molly’s assured indifference. He did not count himself in love with Molly; but he wanted her to love him.
“’Tis no more my mode than yours to change and change about. Some people sometimes would seem to forget.” That slight pucker came again to her smooth brow.
For one instant Jack imagined the words to be a possible reflection on himself, despite what went before, and his lips opened in ready protest. Then he saw where Molly was gazing; and as his glance followed her lead, his forehead drew into, not a mere pucker, but a frown.
Polly did look uncommonly lovely; there was no denying that fact. Jack and Molly both gazed hard at her, and then their eyes met.
“She is wondrous pretty!” Molly said softly.