“Win, darling, don’t fence, or pretend not to understand. It’s serious. I saw something was wrong; I’ve suspected it for some time, and had no end of trouble to get it out of him. But he says you’ve cut him systematically ever since you got back from Bristol, that you won’t see him or answer his letters, and he’s frightfully unhappy about it.”
“Is he?” Another pause, and what sounded like an angry sob. “It’s all very well for him to talk, but if you’d seen him as I did, with that Maddelena Cacciola, when he didn’t know I was there—why I thought he was going to kiss her in front of everybody! And—and—oh, I can’t explain, but I—I saw and heard quite enough that day to—to realize that—I’d made a mistake—or he had.”
“Winnie, you’re quite wrong! I know all about that, and there’s nothing in it. Surely you know the Cacciolas well enough by this time to know how unconventional and—well—effusive they are. Austin admires the girl in a way, but he says she’s ‘the most masterful young woman he’s ever met,’ and—he loves you, Win; you know that in your heart. It—it’s not worthy of you, dear, to mistrust him so—not to give him a chance to explain. Darling, are you going to let the rift widen—perhaps to spoil both your lives for nothing—when there’s so much real sorrow in the world?”
“I know. I’ve been pretty miserable too, and—I don’t know when I shall see him again,” said Winnie tremulously, and Grace smiled.
“You’ll see him in about ten minutes, if he’s been able to find a taxi. He’s on his way to you now. Bye-bye till lunch time.”
She put up the receiver.
CHAPTER XXIII WHAT GIULIA SAW
Mr. Iverson’s Christmas party for his poorest, and some of his “blackest,” sheep was in full swing when Grace arrived there that evening.