"You're such a gentleman!" Jean went on—this time with a tremor in her voice that made him turn.
"That's the sort of fine thing I wanted to say to you," he said. And he was so accustomed, in any talk, to see his interlocutor suddenly laugh that his look of benevolence covered even her air of being amused by these words.
She smiled at him; she patted his arm. "You've said to me far more than that comes to. I want you—oh, I want you so to be successful and happy!" And her laugh, with an ambiguous sob, suddenly changed into a burst of tears.
She recovered herself, but she had brought tears into his own eyes. "Oh, that's of no consequence! I'm to understand that you'll never, never———?"
"Never, never."
Paul drew a long, low breath. "Do you know that every one has thought you probably would?"
"Certainly, I've known it, and that's why I'm glad of our talk. It ought to have come sooner. You thought I probably would, I think———"
"Oh, yes!" Paul artlessly broke in.
Jean laughed again while she wiped her eyes.
