‘You have no right to talk to me this way! I haven’t meant to deceive you. You asked me if there were any one else, and I told you there was not, and it was true. I’m sorry—sorry to hurt you, but it’s better to find it out now.’
Paul rose to his feet with a very hard laugh.
‘Oh, yes, decidedly it’s better to find it out now. It would have been still better if you had found it out sooner.’
He turned his back and kicked the coping of the fountain viciously. Marcia crossed over to him and touched him on the arm.
‘Paul,’ she said, ‘I can’t let it end so. I know I have been very much to blame, but not as you think. I liked you so much.’
He turned and saw the tears in her eyes, and his anger vanished.
‘Oh, I know. I’ve no business to speak so—but—I’m naturally cut up, you know. Don’t cry about it; you can’t help it. If you don’t love me, you don’t, and that ends the matter. I’ll get over it, Marcia.’ He smiled a trifle bleakly. ‘I’m not the fellow to sit down and cry when I can’t have what I want. I’ve gone without things before.’ He offered her his arm. ‘We’ll go back now; I’m afraid you’re missing your dances.’
Marcia barely touched his arm, and they turned back without speaking. He led her into the hall, and bowing with his eyes on the floor, turned back out of doors. She laughed and chatted her way through two or three groups before she could reach the stairs and escape to her own room, where she locked the door and sank down on the floor by the couch. Trouble was beginning for her sooner than she had thought, and underneath the remorse and pity she felt for Paul, the thing that lay like lead on her heart was the look on Sybert’s face as he turned away.
A knock presently came on the door, followed by a rattling of the knob.
‘Marcia, Marcia!’ called Eleanor Royston. ‘Are you in there?’ Marcia raised her head and listened in silence.