"My dear little girl, there is nothing whatever for you to be afraid
of. You're a bit overstrung, aren't you? The man isn't living who
could take you from me."
He patted her shoulder very kindly, soothing her with a patient,
almost fatherly tenderness, and gradually her panic of fear passed.
She leaned against him with a comforting sense of security.
"I can't think how it is I'm so foolish," she told him. "You are good
to me, Blake. I feel so safe when I am with you."
His heart smote him, yet he bent and kissed her. "You're not quite
strong yet, dear," he said. "It takes a long time to get over all that
you had to bear last year."
"Yes," she agreed with a sigh. "And do you know I thought I was
so much stronger than I am? I actually thought that I shouldn't
mind--much--when he came. And yet I did mind--horribly. I--I--told him
about our engagement, Blake."
"Yes, dear," said Blake.
"Yes, I told him. And he laughed and offered his congratulations.
I don't think he cared," said Muriel, again with that curious,
inexplicable sensation of pain at her heart.
"Why should he?" said Blake.
She looked at him with momentary irresolution. "You know, Blake, I
never told you. But I was--I was--engaged to him for about a fortnight
that dreadful time at Simla."
To her relief she marked no change in Blake's courteously attentive
face.
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