Helen’s sympathy was strong in the face of his almost uncontrollable emotion.
“Yes, to-night, Helen; and I shall never see her again unless she sends for me.”
“But what has happened to make things so hopeless now? She has refused you before, Ferdy, and I have always admired your pluck that you refused to give her up.”
“But it is different now—there is a reason why I must give her up. There was none before, except that she did not think she cared for me. I was certain I could make her do that—in time. But now—”
“What is it now?” Her interest was sincere.
“You must know, Helen. Why do you pretend that you don’t?”
“Why, what do you mean? I am not pretending. I know of nothing.”
De Peyster was incredulous. “It’s all right, Helen. We men would do the same thing, I suppose, to protect another chap’s secret; but it is pretty rough on me, just the same.”
Helen’s mystification was complete. “Look here, Ferdy,” she said; “this has gone too far. Inez has evidently confided to you something which she has never told me. I have not had a word with her since she returned, and I know nothing of what has happened except what I have surmised.”
“Do you mean to tell me that Inez has been here all this time as your guest without your knowing that she has fallen in love with some one over here?”