“I saw Percy Singleton walking with her in Mr. Galloway's fields but yesterday,” said Dolly, “and as they came out upon the road they looked as guilty as if I had surprised them arm in arm.”
Now that she should think I cared for Patty never entered my head. I was thrown all in a heap.
“You need not be so disturbed,” whispers my lady. “Singleton has a crooked mouth, and I credit Patty with ample sense to choose between you. I adore her, Richard. I wish I had her sweet ways.”
“But,” I interrupted, when I was somewhat recovered, “why should you think me in love with Patty? I have never been accused of that before.”
“Oh, fie! You deny her?” says Dolly. “I did not think that of you, Richard.”
“You should know better,” I replied, with some bitterness.
We were talking in low tones, Dolly with her head turned from the stage, whence the doctor was flinging his impassioned speeches in vain. And though the light fell not upon her face, I seemed to feel her looking me through and through.
“You do not care for Patty?” she whispered. And I thought a quiver of earnestness was in her voice. Her face was so close to mine that her breath fanned my cheek.
“No,” I said. “Why do you ask me? Have I ever been one to make pretences?”
She turned away.