He
could not speak. He found sincere compassion in her eyes--sympathy and
something else which he did not fathom.
"I can do at least one decent thing to-day," he burst out. "I can come
to you man-fashion and ask you to release me from our engagement of this
evening. I know, of course, you wouldn't go to the ball with me after
what has happened. But there's a deeper reason. I am going to tell it to
you. Don't misunderstand me. I don't know the right words to use. Any
way I put it may sound as though I were a cad. But understand me,
Madeleine--as my friend, understand me--for God's sake, do! You have
been wise. You have counselled me. I need a friend now!" His voice
broke, and she waited. "I've come to my senses. Oh, it's no discredit to
you that I thought I loved you. I thought so."
"Your love would honor any woman, Harlan."
He looked at her piteously. He understood how his confession would
sound. Only his resolve to be honest with her availed to drive him to
the confession he intended to make.
"I couldn't say it to some girls," he cried.
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