Loretta burgeoned.She swiftly developed personality.She discovered a will of her own and wishes of her own that were not everlastingly entwined with the will and the wishes of Daisy.She was petted by Jack Hemingway, spoiled by Alice Hemingway, and devotedly attended by Ned Bashford.They encouraged her whims and laughed at her follies, while she developed the pretty little tyrannies that are latent in all pretty and delicate women.
Her environment acted as a soporific upon her ancient desire always to live with Daisy.This desire no longer prodded her as in the days of her companionship with Billy.The more she saw of Billy, the more certain she had been that she could not live away from Daisy.The more she saw of Ned Bashford, the more she forgot her pressing need of Daisy.
Ned Bashford likewise did some forgetting.He confused superficiality with profundity, and entangled appearance with reality until he accounted them one.Loretta was different from other women.There was no masquerade about her.She was real.He said as much to Mrs.Hemingway, and more, who agreed with him and at the same time caught her husband's eyelid drooping down for the moment in an unmistakable wink.
It was at this time that Loretta received a letter from Billy that was somewhat different from his others.In the main, like all his letters, it was pathological.It was a long recital of symptoms and sufferings, his nervousness, his sleeplessness, and the state of his heart.Then followed reproaches, such as he had never made before.They were sharp enough to make her weep, and true enough to put tragedy into her face.This tragedy she carried down to the breakfast table.It made Jack and Mrs.Hemingway speculative, and it worried Ned.They glanced to him for explanation, but he shook his head.
"I'll find out to-night," Mrs.Hemingway said to her husband.
But Ned caught Loretta in the afternoon in the big living-room.She tried to turn away.He caught her hands, and she faced him with wet lashes and trembling lips.He looked at her, silently and kindly.The lashes grew wetter.
"There, there, don't cry, little one," he said soothingly.
He put his arm protectingly around her shoulder.And to his shoulder, like a tired child, she turned her face.He thrilled in ways unusual for a Greek who has recovered from the long sickness.
"Oh, Ned," she sobbed on his shoulder, "if you only knew how wicked I am!"He smiled indulgently, and breathed in a great breath freighted with the fragrance of her hair.He thought of his world-experience of women, and drew another long breath.There seemed to emanate from her the perfect sweetness of a child--"the aura of a white soul," was the way he phrased it to himself.
Then he noticed that her sobs were increasing.
"What's the matter, little one?" he asked pettingly and almost paternally.
"Has Jack been bullying you? Or has your dearly beloved sister failed to write?"She did not answer, and he felt that he really must kiss her hair, that he could not be responsible if the situation continued much longer.
"Tell me," he said gently, "and we'll see what I can do.""I can't.You will despise me.--Oh, Ned, I am so ashamed!"He laughed incredulously, and lightly touched her hair with his lips--so lightly that she did not know.
"Dear little one, let us forget all about it, whatever it is.I want to tell you how I love--"She uttered a sharp cry that was all delight, and then moaned--"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."She sobbed again, and from the midst of her sobs she cried--"That's the trouble.I wish I did love him.Oh, I wish I were dead!""Now, my dear child, you are worrying yourself over trifles." His other hand crossed over after its mate and rested on hers."Women do it every day.Because you have changed your mind or did not know your mind, because you have--to use an unnecessarily harsh word--jilted a man--""Jilted!" She had raised her head and was looking at him with tear-dimmed eyes."Oh, Ned, if that were all!""All?" he asked in a hollow voice, while his hands slowly retreated from hers.He was about to speak further, then remained silent.
"But I don't want to marry him," Loretta broke forth protestingly.
