"He wavered a moment—and hesitated. I ate my rolls and drank my coffee. Then he held out his hand.
"'Good-bye!' he said.
"'Good-bye!' I answered, and nodded as indifferently as I would to a chance acquaintance and just touched his fingers.
"He turned and went out. That is the last time I've seen him. I sailed on the Celtic three days later, and came straight home—to my mother's house, that is. I told her everything. I have told you, Montague; I owed it to you because of old times, and because you have not forgotten them. It was a brave thing you did, you and Burgoyne—though I fancy that you led off and he only followed after. But to not another shall I ever voluntarily open my lips on this matter."
"That is the wisest course, I think," he approved.
"There is no excuse for my conduct, according to the standards of society," she admitted—"nor shall I attempt to excuse it. My defence is worthless, as a defence. When I left with Amherst I was never coming back. We were to be married as soon as we were free. We thought both the others would divorce us at once. At least that was what I thought—and what Amherst said. I realize now that it was only a subterfuge with him; he wanted to get me off for a while and try me. It's nice to think, isn't it? And when he had tried me for a few months, he tired of me and tossed me aside like an old toy. I ought to have known that I was simply a new plaything for him, and was to last as long."
"You poor child!" said Pendleton. "Your mistake was in not appraising Amherst at his proper value. He is pure cad; and you didn't know it until—after."
She shook her head.
"He showed me only his nice side," she said. "I thought him the most fascinating, the most gallant, the most dignifiedly handsome man that I had ever met. Did the men know him for a cad?"
"Some of them did."