Carrington got up abruptly; evidently his disgust could not be borne in a quiescent attitude.
"You said at the first that her face was innocent," I suggested, in a feeble effort to mitigate this self-scorn; "we neither of us misjudged the girl for a moment, though we overlooked her ignorance."
"Yes, and her ignorance makes all the difference. Another girl—as good, to all intents and purposes—might know and not object; but this one! I really believe it would half kill her!"
Carrington gave another savage glance at my unlucky picture, and his gaze lingered on it as he added:
"If it's kept from her, all's well—as well as a lie can be."
And then, if only for a moment, the Greek gained its triumph over this startling exhibition of Hebraism.
"It is a masterpiece!" said Carrington, slowly, adding abruptly as he went, "Good-night!"
But my night was very bad. Whatever Miss Jones might say or think, I did take life seriously.