Thereupon Gordon had hunted up Weldon, bitterly assailed him for his treachery, and learned the whole truth of Clayton's interference. The fact that the girl had won out against him worried him. People didn't usually triumph over his bulldog tenacity and obstinate determination. However, when the morning broke, he felt that he must have another interview with the girl. If he had been mistaken in her—if she really had the divine spark, after all, or something in its place which helped her to face that unsympathetic audience the night before—he wanted to discover it, too. Therefore, shortly after Martha had finished packing, he was announced, and told to come up.
"I really ought not to see you, Mr. Gordon," said Martha, simply, in a businesslike tone. "But there are certain things that must be said before I go away."
"Where are you going?" cried Gordon, in surprise.
"Home—to Indiana."
"I don't believe it," he said hoarsely. "You are going away with that man Clayton."
"That is not true," replied Martha, with heat.
"Well, you ought to feel grateful to him for letting you appear last night, after I had stopped you."
In spite of herself, Martha couldn't resist the inclination to smile, but it was a wan smile.
"I wish he had stopped me, too," she said.
"Oh, do you? And yet you turned from me, who can give you everything, to him, who can give you nothing."