“Your father saw it. That’s why he called you.... If I’d had to wait much longer, I should have asked you before her. Why—why would you never let us be alone together?”
Nan’s voice came muffled beneath his kisses. “Because, Billy darling, I wanted to play fair.”
“Fair?”
An answer followed, so softly whispered that it did not carry—a surprised exclamation from the man.
Jehane had tiptoed from the window.
With her black hair tumbled about her, her hands pressed against her mouth, she lay sobbing. The night had lost its magic....
Nan entered the room stealthily. She glanced toward the bed. Thinking Jehane was sleeping, she did not light the candle, but commenced to fumble at her fastenings, undressing in the dark. A sob refused to be stifled any longer. Nan paused in her undressing and stood tense; then ran and bent above the bed. Seizing Jehane by the shoulders, she tried to turn her face toward her.
“Oh, Janey, I did, I did play fair. I told you every time he was coming.... Say you’ll still be friends.”
But Jehane said nothing.
Next morning she greeted Barrington with her accustomed mixture of proud restraint and sullenness. “We’ve been expecting this all summer. We wondered when it would happen. I hope you’ll be very happy.”