His face had paled; his eyes were like
steel. The very thought of hearing her name reviled by the jealous woman
before him filled him with wrath.
She stood silent, but with flashing eyes, her breast heaving with
excitement.
"It is true, then?" she panted. "You are going to marry her--tell me the
truth----"
"I did not say so," he returned, slowly and painfully.
"Then you don't love her. Ah, I knew it!" she cried triumphantly.
He did not reply; and she read in his silence the confirmation of her
fears.
"Adrien, is it possible--you love her, and she----"
"Eveline," he said, "for the sake of our past friendship"--she started
at the words--"do not say any more. You know we have only played with
the divine passion. It has beguiled many a pleasant hour, but I do not
think it has been anything more than a pastime."
"Not to you," she said almost sullenly. "But how dare you doubt my
feelings? How dare you insult me?"
"I did not mean to hurt you," he said gently, and her voice softened at
his tone.
"Ah, Adrien," she cried beseechingly, "you do hurt me when you treat me
like this. Try and forget her, unless"--she broke off abruptly--"unless
you are really going to marry her.
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