To this appeal the maid presently brought the answer, which Gerald, oblivious of Miss Grizel's scrutiny, tore open and read.
'Don't make me despise you, Gerald. You come because of what I told you yesterday, and I told you because it was over, so that you insult me by coming. You must believe me when I say that it is over, and until you can meet me as if you had forgotten, I cannot see you. I will not see you now. I do not want to see you.—Helen.'
He read this, and Miss Grizel saw the blood surge into his face. He leaned back in his chair, crumpled Helen's note in his fingers, and looked out of the window. Again Miss Grizel was sorry for him, though with her sympathy there mingled satisfaction. Presently Gerald looked at her, and it was as if he were, at last, aware of her. He looked for a long time, and suddenly, like some one spent and indifferent, he said, offering his explanation: 'You see—I'm in love with Helen—and she won't have me.'
Miss Grizel gasped and gazed. 'In love with Helen? You?' she repeated. The gold locket on her ample bosom had risen with her astounded breath.
'Yes,' said Gerald, 'and she won't have me.'
'But Miss Jakes?' said Miss Grizel.
'She is in love with Kane, and Kane with her—as he always has been, you know. They are all right. Everything is all right, except Helen.'
A queer illumination began to shoot across Miss Grizel's stupor.
'Perhaps you told Helen that you loved her before Miss Jakes threw you over. Perhaps you told Mr. Kane that Miss Jakes loved him before she threw you over. Perhaps it's you who have upset the apple-cart.'
'I suppose it is,' said Gerald, gloomily, but without contrition. 'I thought it would bring things right to have the facts out. It has brought them right—for Althea and Kane; they will be perfectly happy together.'