"And all that followed—the tears, the dismay—was make-believe?"
"Yes. I cannot lie to you, my friend."
Stewart passed an unsteady hand before his eyes. It seemed that something had suddenly burst within him—some dream, some vision——
"So I was deliberately used," he began, hoarsely; but she stopped him, her hand upon his arm.
"Do not speak in that tone," she pleaded, her face wrung with anguish. "Do not look at me like that—I did not know—I had never seen you—it was not my plan. We were face to face with failure—we were desperate—there seemed no other way." She stopped, shuddering slightly, and drew away from him. "At least, you will say good-by," she said, softly.
Dazedly Stewart looked at her—at her eyes dark with sadness, at her face suddenly so white——
She was standing near the window, her hand upon the curtain.
"Good-by, my friend," she repeated. "You have been very good to me!"
For an instant longer, Stewart stood staring—then he sprang at her, seized her——
"Do you mean that you are going to leave me?" he demanded, roughly.