Do
you think it is true?"
"I know it is," I replied gravely.
"And about his arm--was that true?"
I signed an assent.
Her grey eyes grew moist.
"Oh," she cried, "how I have been deceived and how little Lawrence
appreciates him! I think he must know that I've misjudged him, for
he seems so odd and shy, and I don't think he likes to talk to me."
I looked searchingly into her truthful grey eyes, thinking of poor
Derrick's unlucky love-story.
"You do not understand him," I said; "and perhaps it is best so."
But the words and the look were rash, for all at once the colour
flooded her face. She turned quickly away, conscious at last that
the midsummer dream of those yachting days had to Derrick been no
dream at all, but a life-long reality.
I felt very sorry for Freda, for she was not at all the sort of girl
who would glory in having a fellow hopelessly in love with her. I
knew that the discovery she had made would be nothing but a sorrow
to her, and could guess how she would reproach herself for that
innocent past fancy, which, till now, had seemed to her so faint and
far-away--almost as something belonging to another life.
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