“Because I should have told him something, just enough at any rate to have made him take you away with him.”
Mabin was for a moment dumb with surprise.
“What,” she stammered at last, “after all your talk about my being right to stand by my friend?”
“Even after all that,” assented Rudolph with decision. “The matter is getting too serious,” he went on gravely. “I am afraid myself of what may be going to happen.”
“Then,” retorted the girl, “for all your talk about meanness being excusable in a girl, I can be a better friend than you.”
Rudolph smiled.
“Ah,” said he, “you forget that with you it is only a question of your friendship for Mrs. Dale. Now I have to think of both of you.”
“You need not trouble yourself about me, I assure you.”
“But that is just what I must do, madam, even at the risk of your eternal displeasure,” said Rudolph, with a mock-heroic air which concealed real anxiety. “You are not only daring enough, you are too daring where your heart is concerned, and it is the business of your friends to see that you do not suffer for your generosity.” He spoke with so much quiet decision that Mabin was impressed and rather frightened, and it was with a sudden drop from haughtiness to meekness that she then asked:
“What are you going to do, then?”