"Oh!" she cried. "Oh! You’re the wickedest man that ever lived!"
"I’m not wicked!" he protested with earnestness. "The wickedness lies in your going to Eddie after you’ve loved me—in your faithlessness."
"My faithlessness!" she cried.
"It was you who left me," he reminded her.
She was amazed at this very characteristic turn which he had given to their talk. That he should pose as the injured one! But her pride forbade her to mention her wrongs.
"It’s no use talking," she said. "It’s all over now. The less we see of each other, the better satisfied I’ll be."
They had reached the gates of Buena Vista, and Vincent appeared unwilling to be seen with Angelica.
"I’m going farther," he said. "But, Angelica, I won’t let you go!"
II
The visit was altogether a disappointment. Angelica had imagined that it would be a sort of triumph for her, that she could at least a little exult over these "rich people"; but, after all, it was nothing but an obvious condescension on their part. She hadn’t conquered them; they had accepted her voluntarily—not reluctantly, but rather graciously.