“No, it has not,” I replied.
“Are you certain?” he inquired, with sudden earnestness. He had been one of my most intimate friends in Brussels in the old days, and knew well the secret of our broken engagement.
“Quite certain.”
“And they have left for some destination unknown to you?”
“Yes.”
“But why did you seek her again, my dear Ingram? It was scarcely wise, was it?”
“Wisdom has to be thrown to the winds in certain circumstances,” I answered. “I was in this instance compelled to see her.”
“Compelled?” he echoed, puzzled. “Then you did not call upon her of your own free will?”
“No. I called, but against my own inclination.”
“And are you absolutely certain, mon cher Ingram, that all is broken off between you—that you have no lingering thought of her?”