Now she listened while he told how Bernadette had gone—told all save his own madness.
"And you had to go through that!" Marie murmured.
"I deserved it. I'd made such a fool of myself," he said.
His self-reproach told her enough of his madness; nay, she read into it even more than the truth.
"How could she let you, when she loved another man all the time?" she cried.
"She never thought about me in that way for a moment. And I——" He broke off. He would not tell the exact truth; but neither would he lie to Marie.
She judged the case in its obvious aspect—a flirt cruelly reckless, a young man enticed and deluded.
"I wouldn't have believed it of her! You deserve and you'll get something better than that! Don't waste another thought on her, Arthur."
"Never mind about me. I want you to see how it happened that Bernadette could——"
"Oh, Bernadette!" Her voice rang in scorn over the name. "Will nothing cure you?"