She could not meet those honest eyes with less than equal honesty.
She knew that Jessie did not love him--would not marry him--whatever
coquetry she might have shown.

"I did not mean to offend you," she said hesitatingly; "I only half
suspected it when I spoke."

"And you wish to spare me the avowal?" he said bitterly.

"To me, perhaps, yes, by anticipating it. I could not tell what ideas
you might have gathered from some indiscreet frankness of Jessie--or my
father," she added, with almost equal bitterness.

"I have never spoken to either," he replied quickly. He stopped, and
added, after a moment's mortifying reflection, "I've been brought up in
the woods, Miss Carr, and I suppose I have followed my feelings, instead
of the etiquette of society."

Christie was too relieved at the rehabilitation of Jessie's truthfulness
to notice the full significance of his speech.

"Good-by," he said again, holding out his hand.

"Good-by!"

She extended her own, ungloved, with a frank smile. He held it for a
moment, with his eyes fixed upon hers. Then suddenly, as if obeying
an uncontrollable impulse, he crushed it like a flower again and again
against his burning lips, and darted away.