PRIVATE MATTERS
Jeff followed Camilla's departing back with blank bewilderment, too amazed to utter a word. Rita Cheyne looked at Jeff's face and then laughed.
"Act Three will now begin," she said gaily. "It's really too good, Jeff. But it's time for the lady-villain to die. I'm off stage now, so good-by."
She gave him her hand, and he took it mechanically.
"I'll see you to-morrow," he said gravely.
"No, this is good-by. There isn't any to-morrow for us. I won't see you, Jeff. I think perhaps you won't want to see me now."
"This will make no difference," he stammered. "Don't you see—I've got to make her understand."
"You mean—my reputation. She'd never understand that. You'll be wasting time. Don't bother. I'm going to Denver in the morning. No, not a word——"
He tried to hold her, but the clerk came down at this moment, so, with a last flourish of the hand, she sped past him and up the stairs.
Jeff stood for a moment in the middle of the floor, irresolute. Then he turned to the desk and asked the number of Mrs. Wray's room.