“Too late!”
“Too late?” he echoed in surprise.
“Oh, why did I? Why did I?” she was moaning.
He was aware of a swift chill at his heart.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh, I... he... Billy.
“I am such a wicked woman, Ned. I know you will never speak to me
again.”
“This--er--this Billy,” he began haltingly. “He is your brother?”
“No... he... I didn't know. I was so young. I could not help it. Oh, I
shall go mad! I shall go mad!”
It was then that Loretta felt his shoulder and the encircling arm become
limp. He drew away from her gently, and gently he deposited her in a
big chair, where she buried her face and sobbed afresh. He twisted his
moustache fiercely, then drew up another chair and sat down.
“I--I do not understand,” he said.
“I am so unhappy,” she wailed.
“Why unhappy?”
“Because... he... he wants me to marry him.”
His face cleared on the instant, and he placed a hand soothingly on
hers.
“That should not make any girl unhappy,” he remarked sagely. “Because
you don't love him is no reason--of course, you don't love him?”
Loretta shook her head and shoulders in a vigorous negative.
“What?”
Bashford wanted to make sure.
“No,” she asserted explosively. “I don't love Billy! I don't want to
love Billy!”
“Because you don't love him,” Bashford resumed with confidence, “is no
reason that you should be unhappy just because he has proposed to you.”