Fancy changed in an instant; her frivolous manner fell off. She stared at Clytie in surprise.
"Oh! I didn't know that. Has he?"
"Yes, he stopped last week."
Fancy's gaze drifted off to seaward. She was fighting something mentally. She turned her head away also. Finally she said, "I think I understand."
"I think not, quite," Clytie answered softly.
Fancy's eyes flashed back at her, brimming. "He gave it up on account of you, Miss Payson, I'm sure."
"He did, in a way, but it was not altogether my doing."
"I know!" Fancy leaned her head on her hand wearily. "You did for him what I never could do."
"I'm glad you wanted it." Clytie touched Fancy's hand, as it lay limp in her lap.
Instead of taking it, Fancy moved hers gently away. Then she roused herself. "Oh, I am glad! I'm so glad, Miss Payson. He was too good for that—I always told him so. But you are the only woman who could have done that for him!"