Daisy met his darting, elusive glance with a distinct effort. "I shouldn't say you were fond of any one, Nick. The term doesn't apply where you are concerned. There never were two men more totally different than you and Blake. But he isn't despicable for all that. He's a child compared to you, but he's a good child. He would never do wrong unless some one tempted him."
"That's so with a good many of us," remarked Nick, sneering faintly. "Let us hope that when the account comes to be totted up, allowance will be made."
Daisy's hand upon his banished the sneer. "Be fair, Nick," she urged. "We are not all made with wills of iron. I know you are bitter because you think he isn't good enough for her. But would you think any man good enough? Don't think I wanted this. I was on your side. But I—I was busy at the time with—other things. And I didn't see it coming."
Nick's face softened. He said nothing.
She bent towards him. "I would have given anything to have stopped it when I knew. But it was too late. Will you forgive me, Nick?"
He patted her hand lightly. "Of course, of course. Don't fret on my account."
"But I do," she whispered vehemently. "I do. I know—how horribly—it hurts."
Nick's fingers closed suddenly upon hers. His eyes went beyond her.
"Mrs. Musgrave," he said, "I am gifted with a superhuman intelligence, remember. I know some cards by their backs."
Daisy withdrew her hand swiftly. His tone had been one of warning. She threw him a look of sharp uneasiness. She did not ask him what he meant.