"Yes? Yes? She said—?"
"She didn't put it in so many words—but she gave me to understand—or tried to give me to understand—that it was a relief to her—because, in that case, she wasn't obliged to have him on her mind. A woman has those things on her mind, you know, about one man when she loves another."
He jumped up. "I say! You're a good pal. I shall never forget it."
He came toward her, but she stepped back at his approach. She was more sure of herself in the shadow.
"Oh, it's nothing—"
"You see," he tried to explain, "it's this way with me. I've made it a rule in my life to do—well, a little more than the right thing—to do the high thing, if you understand—and that fellow has a way of getting so damnably on top. I can't allow it, you know. I told you so the other day."
"You mean, if he does something fine, you must do something finer."
He winced at this. "I can't go on swallowing his beastly favors, don't you see? And hang it all! if he is—if he is my—my rival—he must have a show."
"And how are you going to give him a show if he won't take it?"
He started to pace up and down the room. "That's your beastly America, where everything goes by freaks—where everything is queer and inconsequent and tortuous, and you can't pin any one down."