"Go to mother, Wallace. I'll see you later."
"Hattie! Hattie!" importuned her mother. "Tell him not to go!"
"No," said Hattie, firmly. "I was willing to do something wrong—and all this has saved me from it. I've never cared for Wallace the right way. He knows it. I was only marrying him to get away from home."
"Hear that!" cried Mrs. Balcome.
"No,—you don't love me," agreed Wallace.
"I don't believe I've ever loved you," the girl went on; "only—believe me!—I didn't know it till—till I came here."
"I understand." Out of a pocket of his vest he took a ring—a narrow chased band of gold. "Will—will you keep this?" he asked. "It was for you."
"Some other woman, Wallace, will make you happy." She made no move to take the ring, only backed a step.
Quickly Sue put out her hand. "Let me take it, dear brother. And try not to feel too bad." She had on a long coat. She dropped the ring into a pocket.
"And, Sue, I want to tell you"—he spoke as if they were alone together—"that I'm ashamed of what I said to you yesterday—that you're quick to think wrong. You're not. And you were right. And you're the best sister a man ever had."