THOMAS WALES WARREN
"Ye-e-es."
"Some one you were fond of?"
She nodded her head, unable to speak.
"One of your girl friends?"
"No. No. I don't want to talk about it."
She wiped her eyes hastily. "I should have told you long ago. I couldn't. He knew you wouldn't—approve."
"And you? You knew it?"
She said, "I didn't understand."
"Is that all?" he asked. "Are you concealing nothing else?"
"Yes," she said, "I am. We quarreled because he said you weren't—honest—in politics."
"Ah!" He dropped her hand. "That's it."
She waited, without speaking, watching him.
He began to walk about very slowly. Then he sat again at his desk and gazed at her thoughtfully.
"Tell me first," he asked, "do you want him back?"
She answered at last: "No. … He's not what I thought he was."
"If he had been," he said, "he wouldn't have been afraid to tell me of your engagement."
"Yes."
"You don't like cowards?"
"No," she said, deeply. "No."
"You're not a coward yourself."
"I have been."
"And you want to go away because you can't
[ 121 ]
