“Arsenio told me that you saw me in the taxi that day,” she said suddenly.
“He must have been very much amused, wasn’t he? He certainly made a pretty fool of me! And put the cap on it by coming to the—to the church, didn’t he?”
“I suppose, when once he’d met you, he was bound to go there, or you’d have suspected.”
“He could have made some excuse to leave me, and not turned up again.”
She did not pursue her little effort to defend Valdez; she let it go with a curious smile, half-amused, half-apologetic. I smiled back. “Monkey Valdez, I think!” said I. She would not answer that, but her smile persisted. “You were looking very happy and bonny,” I added.
“I was happy that day. I had at last done right.”
“The deuce you had!” That was to myself. To her I said, rather dryly, “It certainly was at the last, Lucinda.”
“It was as soon as I knew—as soon as I really knew.”
The waiter brought coffee. She took a cigarette from me, and we both began to smoke.
“And it’s true that I didn’t dare to face Waldo. I was physically afraid. He’d have struck me.”