Chapter Nine.
Bice Writes.
Oliver Trent had been too much enraged by Ibbetson’s monopolisation of Bice to be as prudent as was his wont; indeed, he began to feel as if he had been over cautious already, and that it would have been wiser to have checked matters more decidedly. She avoided him, but he was determined to give his warning, and when Jack went to seek Phillis he caught at the opportunity to say—
“New friends for old—is that your last motto, Bice?”
“What do you mean?” she said, faltering.
“I mean that I could envy you your powers of forgetfulness if I did not unfortunately happen to be one of the sufferers. Clive and I—have we really altogether dropped out of your mind?”
“You take care to prevent such a possibility, even for a moment,” she said angrily.
“Oh, I will not offend you again, if that is your feeling. I will leave Florence to-morrow morning, and nothing shall remind you of my existence. As for Clive, I am afraid I cannot make so large a promise.”