“I do not assert any right to ask them. On the contrary, I have explained their object. I shall not press them, if you think that an answer will in any way compromise you.”
“I have no fear of being compromised. None whatever.”
Conolly nodded, and waited for an answer.
“I may say that my late trip has cost me a considerable sum. I paid all the expenses; and Miss—Mrs. Conolly did not, to my knowledge, disburse a single fraction. She did not ask me to give her money. Had she done so, I should have complied at once.”
“Thank you. Thats all right: she will be able to hold out until she hears from us. Good-afternoon.”
“Allow me to add, sir, before you go,” said Douglas, asserting himself desperately against Conolly’s absolutely sincere disregard of him and preoccupation with Marian, “that Mrs. Conolly has been placed in her present position entirely through her own conduct. I repudiate the insinuation that I have deserted her in a foreign city; and I challenge inquiry on the point.”
“Quite so, quite so,” assented Conolly, carelessly. “Good-bye, Lind.” And he took his hat and went out.
“By George!” said Marmaduke, admiringly, “he did that damned well—damned well. Look here, old man: take my advice and clear out for another year or so. You cant stay here. As a looker-on, I see most of the game; and thats my advice to you as a friend.”
Douglas, whose face had reddened and reddened with successive rushes of blood until it was now purple, lost all self-control at Marmaduke’s commiserating tone. “I will see whether I cannot put him in the wrong,” he burst out, in the debased voice of an ignobly angry man. “Do you think I will let him tell the world that I have been thrown over and fooled?”
“Thats your own story, isnt it? At least, I understood you to say so as we came along.”