For a moment Hare did not understand. He stared at her unbelievingly.
“What did you say?” he asked, slowly.
Mescal repeated her words in a whisper.
“But—but Mescal—I love you. You let me kiss you,” said Hare stupidly, as if he did not grasp her meaning. “You let me kiss you,” he repeated.
“Oh, Jack, I forgot,” she wailed. “It was so new, so strange, to have you up here. It was like a kind of dream. And after—after you kissed me I—I found out—”
“What, Mescal?”
Her silence answered him.
“But, Mescal, if you really love me you can't marry any one else,” said Hare. It was the simple persistence of a simple swain.
“Oh, you don't know, you don't know. It's impossible!”
“Impossible!” Hare's anger flared up. “You let me believe I had won you. What kind of a girl are you? You were not true. Your actions were lies.”