She nodded. “Yes. It wouldn't have improved his chances with Valencia,” her cousin admitted.
Jeff permitted himself a smile. “My impression was that he did not have Mrs. Van Tyle in mind at the time.”
They had waded through the wet ferns to the edge of the woods. As her eyes swept the russet valley through which they had passed Alice drew a deep breath of pleasure. How good it was to be alive in such a world of beauty! A meadow lark throbbed its three notes at her joyfully to emphasize their kinship. An English pheasant strutted across the path and disappeared into the ferns. Neither the man nor the woman spoke. All the glad day called them to the emotional climax toward which they were racing.
Womanlike, Alice attempted to evade what she most desired. He was to be her mate. She knew it now. But the fear of him was in her heart.
“Were you so fond of him? Is that why you did it for him?” she asked.
“I didn't do it for him.”
“For whom then?”
He did not answer. Nor did his eyes meet hers. They were fixed on the moving ferns where the pheasant had disappeared.
Alice guessed. He had done it for the girl because he thought her in love with his cousin. A warm glow suffused her. No man made such a sacrifice for a woman unless he cared for her.
The meadow lark flung out another carefree ecstasy. The theme of it was the triumphant certainty that love is the greatest thing in the world. Jeff felt that it was now or never.