That evening he and Val walked together through the twilight garden in which Gambetta had pondered his plans and philosophies. They, too, had a problem to consider. It had to come, this talk together. They both had felt the imperativeness of it. And now both were remembering that other walk on the moonlit cliffs above St. Brelade's Bay, when the curlew wailed and cruel words were said that separated them as only cruel words can separate, driving them apart for ever. Even as Val had struggled that long-ago night for words to explain and condone the situation Westenra struggled now, while Val walked beside him still and white, but with some hidden strength in her which he felt while he could not understand it.
The curious thing was that, though he had meant to upbraid her, though his heart was bitter against her, he found himself speaking as if he, not she, were the defalcator.
"I suppose you think me a cold-blooded brute?"
With that which Haidee had told her still tingling in her mind she could not pretend to misunderstand, but she tried to be fair.
"You know your own interests best, Garrett."
"Oh, as to my interests--" He found that a strange answer, and cogitated on it for a while.
"Haidee is devoted to you and your interests."
"Haidee? I should not be such a fool as to expect that--again?" No doubt he meant that javelin to reach her. If it did she gave no sign. Only her next words might have been a faint attempt at a return thrust.
"Even Haidee would not find it a very difficult life since things are so prosperous with you now."
He answered swiftly: "Yes; the law of compensation has been busy with my affairs. Unlucky in love--" The sentence remained unfinished.