"I deserve that," he said, and she knew he was referring to last night.
She hesitated, went straight at it. "I'd forgotten last night since Lizzie told me about Nanny. It's wiped out. So, you need think only of going."
"What are you talking about?" he exclaimed. "I—go?"
She was ready. She turned upon him a look of well-simulated surprise. Then— "Oh!" she cried. "I've been thinking it out, and you haven't. At first glance it does look as if we ought to face it together. But as you consider it you'll see you've simply got to go."
He seated himself, took out his cigarette case, lighted a cigarette. "If I go anywhere it will be in his direction, to shorten the wait."
"Listen," said she, leaning toward him, her forearms on the desk, her hands clasped. "He'll have but one idea—to kill you. If you're here, the very sight of you will set him wild. He'll kill you—how can you defend yourself?"
"I can't. Vaughan has the right to my life."
She winced at this unconscious ugly reminder of what he really thought of their romance. She waved her hand as if brushing something away. "No matter about that," said she. "I'm thinking how to save Winchie from disgrace—and my own life. If you're here, there's no hope. If you're gone, he'll have the chance to reflect. And I shall know what to say and how to say it."
"I don't believe she knew anything."
"Basil!" His eyes shifted. "Don't you remember?"