"And have Society in general laugh knowingly and believe—and even our friends accept the denial hesitatingly."
"What other course can you suggest?" he asked.
"There is but one other course—tell the truth," she said.
"And raise a greater scandal—and put you in Porshinger's power?" he objected. "If you admit his tale as to me, won't you practically admit whatever he may choose to say regarding his own experience with you?"
"You may be right!" she said wearily. "I do not know—whatever you think best I shall do."
"I've got you into this miserable difficulty and I shall——"
"My dear Montague, dismiss that idea. I got myself in it by my own insane actions with Amherst."
"And I gave Porshinger the occasion he needed by the fight here and the kiss at Criss-Cross. I tell you I'm more to blame than are you." He leaned over close. "If Lorraine would only divorce you, dear—and you would marry me you wouldn't need care for Porshinger's tales. They would have lost their point, and no one worth while would ever give them a thought."
"My dear friend," she exclaimed, looking at him with a serious smile, "it is not for such as I to think of marriage. I have made too fearful a mess of the one that still binds me."