But time was flying, and Mona knew that she must get back to assist Mrs.
Montague with her toilet for the high-tea.
"It was very nice of you, Ray, to bring me here for this delightful
lunch," she said, as they arose from the table, with a regretful sigh
that they must separate, and began to draw on her gloves.
"We shall take all our lunches together before long, I hope, my darling,"
he whispered, fondly; "half the stipulated time is gone, Mona, and I
shall certainly claim you at the end of another six weeks."
Mona flushed, but she did not reply, and her heart grew heavy, for she
knew she should not be willing to become Ray's wife until she could prove
the circumstances of her birth.
She longed to tell him how she felt about it--she longed to know how he
would feel toward her if they should discover that any stain rested upon
her.
But she dare not broach the subject--a feeling of shame and humiliation
kept her silent, and she resolved to wait and hope until the six weeks
should pass.
They went out together, but still followed by that pair of malignant
eyes, which had, however, been cautiously veiled, as was also the face
in which they were set.
Ray walked with his betrothed to a corner, where he helped her aboard a
car, and then returned to his store.
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