“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled, still imagining she was jesting. “It might be worse, mightn’t it, now?”
At this seeming impertinence her eyes flashed. “Yes—it might. It might be Bursted—or ‘Busted’—mightn’t it?” Then, seeing that her “shot” at his financial condition as described in the newspaper she had read and believed apparently did not touch him, she relented and was in a good humour again. “I’ve been engaged to Tom for a year or so on and off,” she went on. “When I woke up this morning it came into my head to marry him. And I did it while your lawyer and papa were squabbling.” She said this so convincingly that she herself began to feel that it was “as good as true.”
The news that she and Frothingham were advancing together preceded them to the ballroom, but had not spread far enough from its doors to impair the sensation made by their entrance with every appearance of friendliness. And the much discussed mystery of that day’s doings is here solved for the first time.
The next afternoon Frothingham and Wickham drove up to Barney’s door as Nelly and Worthington were arriving on foot. One glance at their faces and he knew that they understood each the other now. “All I accomplished,” he said to himself mournfully, “was to force the fellow to play his hand. What ripping luck I do bring—other people!” He paused only long enough to make his passing on seem natural. Presently she followed him to the library, where he was standing on the rug before the closed fireplace with a cigarette drooping dejectedly from the corner of his mouth. She moved restlessly about the room, evidently seeking a way to begin telling him something.
“I saw it in your face—at the door,” he said, in answer to an appealing glance from her.
She put her hand on his arm and her eyes were wistful. “I know you did, and I hoped—I thought—I saw in your face that you were generous enough to be glad I’m happy.”
“No, I can’t say that you did. The most I can do is to bear it—without the grin.” He seated himself on the edge of the big table and smoked and looked at her reflectively. “I say,” he began at last, “do you see how it’s possible to be in love with two at the same time?”
She nodded, smiling a little. “Yes—I—I think—if I hadn’t met someone first—I should have been in love with—someone else.”
“That’s something,” he said in his satirical drawl. But he kept his eyes down and his eyelids were trembling. “Do you know,” he went on after a pause full of cigarette smoke, “I’ve been thinking about—caring for two people and that sort of thing. I don’t mind saying to you—you’ll understand, I’m sure—there’s a girl over on the other side——”
“I’m so glad!” she exclaimed—and then she wasn’t.