Her eyes met his, a little furtively, full of inquiry. “I have done what you wished,” he said quietly. “I called at the Clarence Hotel!”
“You saw him!”
“No! He sent back my card. He declined to see me.”
She showed no sign of disappointment. She sat up and looked into the fire, smoothing her hair mechanically with her hands.
“Personally,” Barrington continued, “I could see no object whatever in my visit. I have nothing to say to him, nor, I should think, he to me. I am sorry for him, of course, but he’d never believe me if I told him so. What happened to him was partly my fault, and unless he’s changed, he’s not likely to forget it.”
She swayed a little towards him.
“It was partly—also—mine,” she murmured.
“I don’t see that at all,” he objected. “You at any rate were blameless!”
She looked up at him, and he was astonished to find how pale she was.
“I was not!” she said calmly.