"You don't think there's a chance of Traill coming back to you, do you?" he went on. "I shouldn't be here, I assure you, if there were."
Sally's knees trembled with weakness. An overwhelming nausea shook her till she shuddered.
"Did he tell you to come here?" she whispered.
"Heavens, no! I don't suppose he'd do that. He wouldn't do a thing like that. But I'm pretty sure he's in love with that Miss Standish-Roe—the beautiful Coralie. He knows it. He won't admit it; but I'm certain he is, and I rather think I'd better open his eyes a little."
That last remark did not fall within her understanding. She took no notice of it.
"And so you came here of your own accord?"
"Yes—why not? I had an apparently erroneous idea that you liked me. When you let me come back here after dinner, I was sure of it. I saw no reason why we shouldn't get along together just as well as you and Traill did."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, and she hid her face in her hand.
"Oh yes—I see my mistake by this time," he said easily. All passion was cooled in him now. "I'm sorry. There was no intention of insulting you in my mind." He moved to the door. "I—I thought you understood it."
Sally dropped into a chair, her face still covered; shame—the deepest sense of it—beating through all her pulses.