The girl smiled mysteriously.
“You say so. How am I to know? They say that you are unfortunately suffering from delusions. In that case sight of any photograph would possibly strike a false chord in your memory.”
“False chord!” he cried. “Do you doubt this morning that I am in my sane senses? Do you doubt that which I have just said, Elma—do you doubt that I love you?”
The girl’s cheeks flushed instantly at his words. Next second they were pale again.
“No,” she said. “Please don’t let us talk of love, Mr Homfray.”
“Roddy—call me that.”
“Well—yes, Roddy, if you like.”
“I do like. You told me that you thought of me as Roddy. Can you never love me?” he implored.
The girl held her breath. Her heart was beating quickly and her eyes were turned away. She let him take her gloved hand and raise it fervently to his lips. Then, without answering his question, she turned her splendid eyes to his and he saw in them a strange, mysterious expression such as he had never noticed in the eyes of any woman before.
He thought it was a look of sympathy and trust, but a moment later it seemed as though she doubted him—she was half afraid of him.