She walked on beside him in gloomy silence. "It's not much to ask," she said, in a low, bitter voice, "but it involves—have you thought of that?—my seeing you constantly."
"And is that so terrible?" he asked, reddening.
"It's not pleasant," she said, shortly "but I suppose I must—submit. I'm in your power; you can ask what you please." They had reached the entrance of the Park, and she turned to him, as if to dismiss him. "I promise, then," she said. "I'll do what I can to help you—socially, and in return you must promise to treat me as you would any other acquaintance—not force me to meet you again, or let people suppose that there is anything between us. Do you agree to that?"
"I suppose I must," he said, disconsolately, "though it's a harder condition, by far, than mine."
Again that cold, scornful gleam flashed across her face.
"Oh, you'll resign yourself to it," she said. "It's much more to the point to get—the invitations. I'll see that my side of the bargain is fulfilled." She drew down her veil, glancing anxiously across the wide Square, where street-cars, bicycles and wagons all converge from different directions and in inextricable confusion. "Don't come any further with me," she said. "I don't wish people to see us together."
She left him abruptly as she spoke, and he stood for a moment and watched her cross the Square and take a car at the corner. He was not quite satisfied with the interview; she had been too independent, too scornful. It hurt his pride. But the situation was full of possibilities. He felt that his rash marriage had been a stroke of genius.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, was making her way home, with a feeling of tremulous relief, much as if she had escaped unexpectedly from shipwreck, with at least a plank to cling to, and bear her perhaps to ultimate safety. Yet how slight that plank was she might have realized, had she known that Julian Gerard, as he entered the Park on horseback, had seen her walk down one of the side paths, with the man who, only a day before, had aroused his jealous suspicions.
"And she said she didn't know him," he thought, with a fierce throb of pain, and rode on, frowning, into the Park.