She
had no word of mine for it then, nor had she now, and I believe she felt
rather certain there never would be any. She seemed to be grateful for
this and doubly kind, with only now and then the flash of a knowing
look, or the trifle of a deep, swiftly questioning glance, born, I dare
say, of that curiosity which the devil contrives to kindle in God's most
angelic women.
Doubtless she had a little speech of refusal patted into kindliness for
me. Perhaps she would not have been wholly anguished to have me hear
this--to be able to assure me tenderly, graciously, of the depth and
pureness of her friendship for me. Who knows? I am older now, and things
once hidden are revealed. Sometimes I think that a certain new respect
for me grew within her as the days tried the metal of my silence--a
respect, but nothing more. Her appreciation of my face was too palpably
without those reservations that so often cry louder than words.
So we sealed our secret, she and I, in an unspoken pledge, and not even
Solon Denney, so keen of scent for rivals, ever divined it.
He called me out with the old boyish whistle the day he confided to me
the tremendous news of his engagement. He laughed, foolish with joy as
he told it, and I felt tingling in my arms that old boyish, brute
impulse to slay him for the wretched ease of his victory.
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