Yet you cannot marry her."
"Nor can you marry some one else," I retorted, almost angrily, for a man
dislikes to be prodded by a painful truth.
"Ah, well, I suppose we are a pair of fools," she said.
"You're right, Frances," I answered philosophically, "and the only
consolation we can find lies in the fact that we know it."
"Most fools lack that flattering unction," returned Frances, musingly.
"Perhaps you will take more interest in this matter when I tell you
that it is not Betty I propose to see," I answered. "I am deliberately
offering to take you to see some one else who is about to leave England."
She stood on tiptoe and kissed my lips for answer, then sank into a
chair, covering her face with her hands to hide the sudden tears.
I went to the window and waited till she was calm. I longed to comfort
her by telling of the faint prospect of good fortune that lay in Le
Grand's letter, but I hesitated raising a hope which might never be
realized.
At the end of five minutes I went to her and said: "Let me ask the
duchess to excuse you for to-night, and in the morning I'll meet you on
Bowling Green stairs, at, say, seven o'clock."
"I'll be there," she answered, smiling through her tears.
The next morning we took boat, and the tide running out, made good speed
to the Bridge, hastened to the Old Swan, and found George in his printing
shop awaiting us. I remained in the old tapestried room, leaving Frances
and George to say their farewells.
Pages:
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254