She was going out with Brace and was in evening dress. Truedale had never seen her gowned so, and he realized that she was extremely handsome and—something more. She came close to him, drawing on her long, loose, white gloves.
“I cannot bear to go and leave you—all alone!” she said, raising her eyes to his.
“You see, John Morrell is showing us his brand-new wife to-night—and I couldn’t resist; but I’ll try to break away early.”
“You are eager to see—Mrs. Morrell?” Truedale asked, and suddenly recalled the relation Lynda had once held to Morrell. He had not thought of it for many a day.
“Very. You see I hope to be great friends with her. I want—”
“What, Lynda?”
“Well, to help her understand—John.”
“Let me button your glove, Lyn”—for Truedale saw her hands were trembling though her eyes were peaceful and happy. And then as the long, slim hand rested in his, he asked:
“And you—have never regretted, Lyn?”
“Regretted? Does a woman regret when she’s saved from a mistake and gets off scot-free as well?”