veil behind which she had half hidden her face at first.
"On your honor, as an honest girl?"
"On my honor, as anything you please. Why do you suspect me of it?" demanded Polly, almost angrily.
"Because something is wrong with you. It's no use to deny it, for you've got the look I used to see in that very glass on my own face when I thought he cared for you. Forgive me, Polly, but I can't help saying it, for it is there, and I want to be as true to you as you were to me, if I can."
Fanny's face was full of agitation, and she spoke fast and frankly, for she was trying to be generous, and found it very hard. Polly understood now, and put her fear at rest by saying, almost passionately,—
"I tell you I don't love him! If he was the only man in the world, I wouldn't marry him, because I—don't want to."
The last three words were added in a different tone, for Polly had checked herself there with a half frightened look, and turned away to hide her face behind her hair again.
"Then if it's not him, it's some one else. You've got a secret, Polly, and I should think you might tell it, as you know mine," said Fanny, unable to rest till everything was told, for Polly's manner troubled her.
There was no answer to her question, but she was satisfied, and putting her arm round her friend, she said, in her most persuasive tone,—
"My precious Polly, do I know him?"
"You have seen him."
