"What is not true?"
"That Carlton asked you last night, that you said 'Yes'—Oh! I saw it in his eyes—in yours—"
"It is true."
"Oh, my God!" cried Lossie, and beat her hands together. "You are doing a great wrong to yourself and Chris—ruining your own life, and breaking two men's hearts—you and Carlton are utterly unsuited to each other—and all for a bit of temper—because Chris paid more attention to the horses at the Show, than he did to you!"
"Well, it's done," said Gay, voice and eyes dull, "and it can't be undone."
"But it can! Do you suppose Carlton will take what has been flung to him in a moment of pique—like a bone to a dog? Doesn't he deserve to be loved just as much—and more—than Chris does? Oh! he could love a million times better—you have never troubled to sound the depths of his heart—and you are committing a cruel wrong—a crime even—if you go to him, knowing that you love Chris!"
"Come to my den," said Gay sharply. "Carlton may be here at any moment, and must not find us quarrelling over him," and she led the way, followed hastily by a woman who had lost all regard for appearances, and who in her godless selfishness recognised no rights but those of her passions.
"It is not a matter for your decision or mine," said Gay, when the door was shut, "but for Carlton. If he holds me to my promise, I shall keep it."
"But you'll tell him that you love Chris?" cried Lossie eagerly.
Gay shook her head. She was very angry with Chris, and his playing the laggard that morning, was the finishing stroke to his utter inconsiderateness and folly. She deeply resented his having spoken to Rensslaer first, accepting his offer, and thereby taking it for granted that she was ready to fall into his arms—Gay forgot that she had given him no chance of doing so, as she had left the building before the performance was over.