She heard Warden's gasp; saw his eyes glow into hers with a jealous fury that seemed to threaten to drive him to violence.
"Bah; don't be silly, Gary," she admonished coldly. "You know I never have cared for you in the way you wanted. I shall have to respect the man I marry, and I never could respect you, Gary. You are too—too much as you are now. You'd like to punish me, physically; you'd like to hurt me, in some way—if you could. You'll never be a lover to any woman, Gary—you are too insincere. You never have loved me; you have merely been flattered over having me near you. And it is only your vanity that is hurt, now."
Warden laughed unpleasantly; though she knew from the expression of his eyes that he knew she had spoken truthfully.
"Well—go on," he said, shortly.
"That is all, Gary," she laughed. "Except that I got lost and went to the cabin instead of the house. Lawler was there; we were both there—for ten days. And then, because I didn't want my reputation to suffer, I had Lawler take me to the hotel at night, to make it appear that I had been there all the time. Interesting, isn't it?"
"Very," said Warden. "I think I understand. But why didn't Lawler marry you to save your reputation—if you loved him so much?"
Her smile was shallow and hard.
"I expect Lawler thought my reputation didn't need saving—or wasn't worth it. For he refused me, point blank."
"Gallant—eh?" mocked Warden.
She laughed. "Well, I don't know that I blame him. I have thought, since, that I went at it very crudely. I should have played the innocent instead of doing what I did. He's wary as a serpent, Gary, and wise."