“As vague as it is cruel,” I observed.
“Its vagueness is imperative,” she said. “You are loved by another, and I have therefore no right to a place in your heart.”
“You are cruel, Eva!” I cried reproachfully. “My love for Mary Blain has been dead these three years. By mutual consent we gave each other freedom, and since that hour all has been over between us.”
“But what if Mary still loves you?” she suggested. “You were once her affianced husband.”
“True,” I said. “But even if she again loves me she has no further claim whatever upon me, for we mutually agreed to separate and have both long been free.”
“And if she thought that I loved you?” Eva asked.
In an instant I guessed the reason of her disinclination to listen to my avowal. She feared the jealousy of her friend!
“She would only congratulate us,” I answered. “Surely you have no cause for uneasiness in that direction?”
“Cause for uneasiness!” she repeated, starting, while at that same instant the colour died from her sweet face. Next second, however, she recovered herself, and with a forced smile said, “Of course I have no cause. Other circumstances, however, prevent us being more than friends.”
“And may I not be made aware of them?” I inquired in vague wonder.