"Yes, this evening."
"And this is how he breaks his insulting silence!"
Already the father was trembling with rage and indignation; the girl was curiously serene.
"He doesn't even break it," she said. "He simply does what we arranged that either of us should do if we ever changed. And he is quite right."
"Right!" cried Mr. Merridew. "Quite right? Is the girl gone mad? The heartless blackguard, the insolent snob! But you are well rid of him, you are well rid."
Nan recoiled, stricken but roused. "You hurt me once by reminding me of things," she said quickly, in a low and passionate voice. "Don't hurt me more by forcing me to remind you of them. We made our own arrangement in the after saloon on board the Memnon when we said good-bye. It has nothing to do with anybody else, and nobody else can say a word against him if I do not."
"And don't you?" he cried. "And do you mean to say you don't?"
"Not a syllable," said the girl. "He has done the honest thing."
"The honest thing!"