"Don't cry--please don't. Something is all wrong here--there is
some terrible misunderstanding. If you will only explain it to me----"
She dried her eyes mechanically: "Come here," she said. "I don't believe
I did explain it clearly."
And, very carefully, very minutely, she began to tell him about the
psychic waves, and the instrument, and the new company formed to exploit
it on a commercial basis.
She told him what had happened that morning to her; how her disobedience
had cost her so much misery. She informed him about her father, and that
florid and rotund gentleman's choleric character.
"If you are here when I tell him I'm married," she said, "he will
probably frighten you to death; and that's one of the reasons why I wish
to get it over and get you safely away before he returns. As for me, now
that I know the worst, I want to get the worst over and--and live out my
life quietly somewhere.... So now you see why I am in such a hurry, don't
you?"
He nodded as though stunned, leaning there on the table, hands folded,
head bent.
"I am so very sorry--for you," she said. "I know how you must feel about
it. But if we are obliged to marry some time had we not better get it
over and then--never--see--one another----"
He lifted his head, then stood upright.
Her soft lips were mute, but the question still remained in her eyes.
So, for a long while, they looked at each other; and the color under his
cheekbones deepened, and the pink in her cheeks slowly became pinker.
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