"Hang her, she is as fickle as her clime," he says, half aloud, thinking of Mrs. Gower.
His companion made no response, knowing who he meant, but her heart is lighter at his words.
"Hang it, Bet, it's a freezer; if you have any money about you, I'll hail this sleigh if it's empty."
"Yes, sweetheart, here it is," giving him one of the fives.
In a minute they are under the buffalo robe, when, according to promise, she coaxes, entreats, and implores him to give Mrs. Gower up, but he angrily refuses to listen to anything on the subject; entertaining her, instead, with recitals of all the girls on King street who, he is sure, are dying for an introduction to him, and of several women of his acquaintance being infatuated about him, his companion assenting to all he said; getting out at his own quarters, paying the driver to 910 Seaton street, pocketing the change. Beatrice Hill alone, thinks out her plan for the following evening with tears, which she brushes away with bare hands, having given her mits to her fickle swain to keep his hands from the frost.
"Yes, I must tell them all," she thought, weeping silently, "else Phil will make her marry him. Father Nolan would tell me to do so, to save him from guilt. He will turn to his faithful Betty again when he sees how they sit on him, when they know all."
As the hall door had closed on Mr. Cobbe making his exit, Mr. Blair said, turning out the gas:
"Let us go to her."
Mrs. Gower meets them in the hall, looking pale and agitated, her eyes larger and darker in her pale face, her sensitive mouth quivering.
"I was just coming for you," she said, and on her eyes meeting Mr. Blair's, in answer to his loving, steadfast gaze, hers told him that her appeal has been in vain.