“I never gave you permission to call me Jessica, Mr. Morley,” she said. “And as for anything being wrong⸺”
“Why, this Teck⸺” he began.
“I am engaged to marry Mr. Teck,” she flashed back at him. “Really, I hardly see why you take it upon yourself to thrust your personal interference upon us in this matter. I told you at our first conversation that I was engaged to marry him⸺”
“Why, Jessica!” burst out Val, puzzled, and a little angry. “You said⸺”
“Never mind what I said, Mr. Morley,” she cut in calmly, monotonously. “You will confer a great favor upon me if you will go back to New York, and forget all that has gone before.”
“But surely, Jessica,” he protested, “you cannot marry this murderer! Why, he has twice tried to kill me, and⸺”
“Your opinions in the matter will hardly convince me, Mr. Morley, that there is any truth in what you say. Will you be good enough to do as I ask you—go away, and not come back?” she asked it appealingly, a tremor in her otherwise emotionless voice.
He examined her silently for a moment or two before speaking, his brain pounding with the unexpected development in the affair. He did not for a moment believe in what she was saying—that she was acting a part he was well aware. How could the woman he loved be so cold and indifferent to him! Why, she simply couldn’t—she was . . .
“Surely you’re joking, Jessica,” he exclaimed. “Why, you know, for a minute I thought you meant it⸺”
“I’m not joking, Mr. Morley. I mean every word I
