“I suppose so. There has been no other, has there?”
“Violet!”
It was at this juncture, for the fiftieth time, that Lady Silverstairs exclaimed:
“It is downright mean of you to keep me in the dark. What was it that happened? Make a soiled breast of it. Do!”
For the fiftieth time Leilah protested:
“Don’t ask me. Don’t. He knows and that is enough. As for me I am trying to forget.”
“And you think Barouffski will help you. But has it ever occurred to you that if you were not very rich he might lack the incentive?”
To this Leilah assented. “He said he is poor.”
“At least he does not exaggerate. I told Silverstairs that he was after you for your money and he said that was what he married me for. So he did and I married him for his title. It was a fair bargain. Now if we had it to do over I would say—I would say—well, I would say that it is better to have loved your husband than never to have loved at all. But six months hence, if you had it to do over, do you think you could say as much—or as little?”