"No," Buddy said, "I know how you feel."
"Then—then good-bye."
"Right here?" said Buddy. "I thought we were going to walk home with you."
"I'm nearly home," Ruth said. "Say it now, please."
"Good-bye," said Buddy. He stood looking at her for a moment, levelly into her eyes. Then he turned away, wheeling as if he were under orders to march.
"Tell me what you know, Elizabeth," he said, as they walked on, and Elizabeth told him of what had happened at the Farradays that morning.
"But I thought things were going to be all fixed," she concluded, miserably, "and now they seem to be in a worse tangle than ever. I don't see what she's sending you away for."
"That's all right," said Buddy. "I see."
"But she said it was good-bye between you."
"That's all right. It's an ethical question with her. She split up with him because she couldn't stand him, not because she wanted me. It's like a gentleman's agreement, you see. You enter into a mutual arrangement under the supposition that the other fellow is as decent as yourself. When you find he isn't, that releases you, unless the contract is actually signed. If he'd been all right, she would have stuck. She wants me to understand that."