“He must have been invited; brazen as he is, he never would have intruded here unasked,” she guessed.
“Now, since you speak of it, I did meet him at the Club last night, with Marrion.”
“And you invited him here?” Anger and sorrow were blended in the voice of Cherokee as she asked the question.
“I don’t think I did, though something was said about his calling. The fact is, I had been taking a little too much—too much——”
“Chloral. Yes I understand now, but how could you be friendly with him after the way he had treated me.”
There was reproach in her tones, that told more strongly than her words, of suppressed indignation. Robert noticed it and was visibly embarrassed.
“You forget he gave us a thousand dollar wedding present. He is really a good fellow when you come to know him thoroughly; besides, he is one of the most successful artists in New York, and can be of great service to me. I want to get to the front, you know.”
Cherokee had never told Robert of their meeting, nor that very amount he had so contemptuously returned to her in the guise of a gift—of the reception, and Willard’s boast that she would again receive him. She regretted that now; surely the knowledge on the part of the husband would have restrained him.
“You must go to them,” she said at length, “they will think strangely of the delay.”
“I must go; surely you will accompany me.”