"Soon after he was gone I realized that—that I did not love him with the one great love. I knew that I didn't because I had not thrown myself into his arms and told him, as Ruth told Naomi, 'For whither thou goest I will go; and where thou lodgest I will lodge.'
"I need not tell you in details of how bewildered I was by his strange request and what I went through when I found that I did not really love him. Of course, I tried to imagine what had occurred that caused him to ask me to leave everything and go away with him. Whatever it was, I felt it was cowardly of him to leave unless it was all his own fault.
"So he did not hear from me last night and this morning I read of what he stands accused. But I was prepared. I had chosen my course and what I read only made me certain that I was right; that I did not truly love him, never had and never could. I pitied his weakness. I could see how he had gone astray. You see, I have often wondered how it was he had money so suddenly after everything he once had had gone from him. The source of his wealth was always a mystery to me."
She paused and looking toward the casement window with its red geraniums, she added, softly: "That is my story. That is what has happened."
In the silence that followed they were both startled to hear footsteps on the porch outside. Consuello looked toward him, quickly, with an expression that warned him. The door swung open and Gibson stepped in, closing it behind him.
"I thought I'd find you here," he said.
His face was pale and a smile that was half a sneer was on his lips as he stood looking at them. John was on his feet facing him and a glance showed that Consuello had also risen from her chair at Gibson's unexpected entrance.
"The girl who said that she loved me and the man who pretended he was my friend," said Gibson, sarcastically.
John's muscles tightened and he bit his lip to restrain the words of warning to Gibson that he was about to speak.
"If you have come here to——" he heard Consuello say, coolly, evenly.