"The public is always selfish; it always demands more than any single person can give to it. Pardon?" she said as Cathewe leaned to speak to her. "I did not hear."
M. Ferraud nibbled his crisp celery.
"I asked, what will you do?" repeated Cathewe for her ear only.
"What do you mean?"
"Did you know that he was here?"
"I should not have been seated at this table had I known."
"Some day you are going to tell me all about it," he asserted; "and you are going to smile when you answer me."
"Thank you. I forgot. My dear friend, I am never going to tell you all about it. Why did you not come first?" her voice vibrating.
"You still love him."
"That is not kind," striving hard to keep the smile on her trembling lips. "Oh, I beg of you, do not make this friendship impossible. Do not rob me of the one man I trust."