Holloway and myself for the parts which we took in the charity play
that week; after he went out we went over one of the scenes alone. Perhaps
you heard part of that." She stopped and almost choked. "Mr. Holloway has
never really made any love to me--perhaps he never wanted to--perhaps I've
never wanted him to."
Jack stared. His misconception was so strongly intrenched in the forefront
of his brain that he could not possibly dislodge it at once.
Mrs. Rosscott continued to dry the tears that continued to rise; she
seemed terribly affected at finding herself to have been the cause (no
matter how innocently) of this latest tale of wrack and ruin.
"Do you mean to say," the young man said, at last, "that there was no
truth in what I heard? Don't you expect to marry Holloway?"
"I never expect to marry anyone, but certainly not him," she replied,
trying to regain her composure.
"Honest?"
"Assuredly."
It was as if an unseen orchestra had suddenly burst forth just near enough
and just far enough away. He came to the side of her chair and laid his
hand upon its back.
"Then what have you been thinking of me lately?" he asked.
"Very sad thoughts," she confessed--hiding her face again.
"Did you care?"
"Yes, I cared."
He stood beside her for a long time without speaking or moving. Then he
suddenly pulled a chair forward, and sat down close in front of her.
"Don't cry," he said, almost daring to be tender. "There's nothing to cry
about _now_, you know.
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