"How _can_ you talk to me like this?" she cried, her voice
trembling with indignation, "after what I told you that day in the
wind-shelter?"
"In the wind-shelter?" He looked at her in bewilderment.
"Yea, about Hal Ford and the captain and all that. Why, you promised to
help me, and now--"
"Hal Ford?" repeated Percival, dazed. "What has he to do with it?"
"More than anybody else in the world. He's waiting for me in Wyoming,
and I'm counting the days and the hours and the minutes until I get back
to him. I thought you understood, and were helping me bring the captain
around."
He stood before her too stunned to speak.
Sheer amazement for the moment crowded out the pain.
"But--but don't you love me?" he stammered at last.
"Of course I don't," said Bobby, almost indignantly; "I never have loved
anybody, and I never will love anybody but Hal."
Then Percival realized that it was quite possible for lightning to
strike twice in the same place. He felt a sudden pain in his throat,
a burning under his lids, and he sat down limply.
[Illustration: "I'm so sorry!" whispered Bobby, putting her arm
impulsively around his heaving shoulders]
"I'm so sorry!" whispered Bobby, putting her arm impulsively around his
heaving shoulders. "I thought we were playing a game. I thought you
understood. Please forgive me, Mr. Hascombe! Please! Won't you?"
He shook off her arm and stood up. He was whiter than he had been on the
night of the accident, but he managed to achieve a smile.
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