"Miss Pound," he said, in a voice which he himself could not recognize as his own, "you needn't take off your hat.... You—you actually came back here! You were bold enough to come again to this office.... I fancied you would be gone—from Coldriver." His voice broke queerly. "I suppose you realize what you have done—and are satisfied with the price—the price of forfeiting the respect of every honest man and woman you know! That is a great deal to give up. It ought to command a high price—treachery.... I hope you are getting a sufficient return.... It means nothing to you, of course, but—I loved you. I thought about you as a man thinks about the woman he hopes will be his wife ... and his children's mother ... so it—pains—to find you despicable...."
Sarah's little fists clenched, her eyes glinted.
"How dare you?" she cried. "What affair is it of yours what I do?... You're a silly, jealous idiot." With which childish invective she flung out of the office.
In an hour Bob Allen was calmer, and so the more unhappy. His mind cleared, and, being cleared, it directed him to carry his trouble to Scattergood Baines.
"Um!... Gone, eh?" said Scattergood. "Sure it's gone?... Um!..."
"Yes, and Sarah Pound will be gone, too. How dared she come back to my office?... Now she'll go with Curtis."
"Shouldn't be s'prised," said Scattergood, waggling his head. "I heard Farley a-pointin' out to her the dee-sirability of Paris and Rome and sich European p'ints last night.... You calculate Sairy took the paper?"
"What else can I think?"
"To be sure.... Um!... Paris, Rome, London—might be argued into stealin' it myself, if I was a gal. Um!... Ever see a toad ketch flies, Bob? Does it with his tongue. There's toad men, Bob, that goes huntin' wimmin the same way—with their tongues. Su'prisin' the number and quality they ketch, too. What was you plannin' on doin', Bob? Goin' back to your office, wasn't you? And keepin' your mouth shet? Was that the idee? Eh?"
"I don't know what to do, Mr. Baines."