The idea that any woman could care enough
for him to shed a tear when he left her had never crossed his mind; even
now, with the actual fact before his eyes, he doubted whether it were
possible. She was ill, perhaps, and suffering pain. Pshaw! it was absurd,
it could not be that she cared so much for him.
Seeing she did not move, he sat quite still for a while. His usual tact
had deserted him in the extremity of the situation. He revolved in his
mind what was best to say. It was safest to suppose that Joe was ill, but
he would say something indifferent, in order to see whether she recovered,
before he suggested that he might be of assistance.
"It is cold here," he remarked, trying to speak as naturally as possible.
"Would you not like to take a turn, Miss Thorn?"
Joe moved a little. She was deadly pale, and in the effort she had made to
control her feelings she was unconscious of the tears in her eyes.
"Oh no, thanks," she faltered, "I will not dance just now." She could not
say more.
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