Janet had made up her mind to treat Dale at first with simple friendliness; if this recipe failed, it was to be followed by distant civility. She answered collectedly enough, in spite of a quiver in her voice:
"I thought I had better not see you just now."
"Why, in Heaven's name?"
"I can't go through it all again. Indeed I can't, Dale."
"Do you seriously expect me to be content with what you said then—to go away and never come near you again?"
Dale spoke vehemently. It was obvious that the distant civility would be called into play. Perhaps silence was Janet's idea of it, for she said nothing.
"Because that's what it comes to," pursued Dale. "Do you imagine, Jan, I could see you now—after it all—except as your lover? What do you want me to do?"
"Miss Fane——" began Janet in a very small voice.
"I'll never see Nellie Fane again if she robs me of you," Dale declared with great energy, and probably perfect, though unintentional, untruth.
Janet looked up and met his eyes. Then she dropped hers, and said, in tones quite unlike those of distant civility: