Vane held himself in hand with an effort.
"I dare say you're right on the latter point. It's a fact I'm sometimes thankful for. It leaves one more free to go straight ahead. Now, as I see the dried-fruit man coming in search of you and you evidently don't mean to answer me, I can't urge the matter."
He turned away and left her wondering why he had abandoned his usual persistency, unless it was that an uneasy conscience had driven him from the field. It did not occur to her that the man had under strong provocation merely yielded to the prompting of a somewhat hasty temper. In the meanwhile he crossed the room in an absent-minded manner and presently found himself near Jessy, who made room for him at her side.
"It looks as if you were in disgrace to-night," she said sweetly, and waited with concealed impatience for his answer. If Evelyn had been sufficiently clever or bold to give him a hint as to what he was suspected of, Jessy foresaw undesirable complications.
"I think I am," he owned without reflection. "The trouble is that, while I may deserve it on general grounds, I'm unconscious of having done anything very reprehensible in particular."
Jessy was sensible of considerable relief. The man was sore and resentful; he would not press Evelyn for an explanation, and the breach would widen. In the meanwhile she must play her cards skillfully.
"Then that fact should sustain you," she smiled. "We shall miss you after to-morrow—more than one of us. Of course, it's too late to tell you that you are not altogether wise in resolving to go."
"Everybody has been telling me the same thing for the last few weeks," he laughed.
"Then I'll only wish you every success. It's a pity that Bendle and the other man haven't paid up yet."
She met his surprised look with an engaging smile.