"I came here to say good-by to you," Gibson interrupted, "and to make certain that there had not been some mistake. I thought you might have tried to reach me last night and failed, or that you might have changed your mind." He paused a moment before adding, "But I know better now."
"You should have known last night," Consuello said. "You should have known that if I had decided to do what you asked me I would have come to you, found you wherever you were."
"I should have known months ago, if I had not been such a blind fool," said Gibson bitterly.
"You were a blind fool," said Consuello, "but not as I suspect you think. You were blinded by your own selfish indolence. You said a moment ago that I told you I loved you. I did tell you that and I thought that I meant it, but when I found that I could not go with you as you asked I knew I had been mistaken. You must remember that I decided against you before I knew the reason you wanted me to leave."
The half-sarcastic smile curled Gibson's lips.
"Then you'll admit that something else—someone else, perhaps——" he said.
"I saw no one, except Betty, from the time you left until Mr. Gallant came this evening," Consuello said. "I'm thankful that I was able to decide before I read what was in the paper today. Reggie, how often have I told you my conception of love. Don't you know that if I cared for you nothing would have kept me from you? I cannot tell you why it was; I can only tell you how. I knew as soon as I realized that I had refused to go with you blindly that it was not love, the real love, that I had in my heart for you."
"And suppose I had not asked you to go away with me? Suppose I came to you tonight and asked you to stand by me, right here in Los Angeles?"
"It would have been the same," Consuello replied quietly. "I would have given you the same answer."
As she spoke Gibson gazed at her intently and the anger that had smouldered in his eyes disappeared and he forced a smile to his lips as he turned toward John.