“Last night I said I would give you the reason of my apparent fourberie.”
She paused, and toyed with her rings. She was waiting for me to answer.
“Yes,” I said; “I am listening.”
She looked up hastily; my voice was not encouraging.
“It was imperative Frank, that you should be sent to Petersburg—and—it was for your own sake—”
“For my sake!” I exclaimed.
“Yes, Frank,” she replied; “and it was only for that and for your future happiness and our—” she paused, while a vivid blush mantled her handsome features.
“Our what?” I demanded, almost rudely.
“I must not say, dearest; but this you might know—that no harm was intended for you in any proceeding in which I had a hand.”
“That is no answer, Vera,” I said, somewhat sternly. “You say this was for ‘our’ something, and for my future happiness! What does it all mean, and why this mystery? I’m tired of it. If you cannot explain, why ask me to call upon you?”