"
Papillon, who had unearthed a long-cherished bone in a dark corner under
a Dutch cabinet, dragged his treasure across the floor and laid it at
his master's feet with a pleased growl.
"You will not marry Theo?"
"No."
She had risen, and the two faced each other defiantly, while the little
dog between them wagged his tail with joy.
"Why?" asked Joyselle sharply.
"Because--I cannot. I have dawdled and dallied, and refused to face
things long enough. Now I see that the worst crime I could commit
against him would be to marry him. I love you. Whether you love me or
not, I love you, and I always shall. And I ask you as a great favour to
tell Theo for me that I cannot marry him."
"But what are you going to do?"
His voice trembled and he spoke very slowly.
"I am--going away. I don't know where. To Italy, probably, with the
Lenskys. And I shall, I daresay, marry in the course of time."
"Whom are you going to marry?" he cried furiously, forgetting that she
had just said that she loved him, and mad with jealousy.
She laughed. "_Qui sait?_ I don't. Possibly Lord Pontefract--he has just
come back from the Andes--possibly someone whom--you do not know.
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