H lne heard Lewis's tale from start to finish with only one interruption. It took her five minutes to find out just what it was Folly had said in her own tongue to the little cockney in his, and even at that there were one or two words she had to guess. When she thought she had them all, she sat up straight and laughed.
Lewis stared at her.
"Do you think it's funny?" he demanded.
"Oh, no, of course not," gasped Lady Derl, trying to gulp down her mirth. "Not at all." And then she laughed again.
Lewis waited solemnly for her to finish, then he told her of some of the things he had heard at the club.
"H lne," he finished, "I want you to know that I don't only see what a fool I was. I see more than that. I see what you and dad sacrificed to my blindness. I want you to know that you didn't do it in vain. Six months ago, if I had found Folly out, I would have gone to the dogs, taken her on her own terms, and said good-by to honor and my word to dad. It's—it's from that that you have saved me."
H lne waved her hand deprecatingly.
"I did little enough for you, Lew. Not half what I would willingly have done. But—but your dad—I wrote you I'd seen him just for an hour at Port Said. Your dad, Lew, he's given you all he had."
"What do you mean?" asked Lewis, troubled.
"Nothing," said H lne, her thoughts wandering; "nothing that telling will show you." She turned back to him and smiled. "Let's talk about your pal Natalie. We're great friends."