“But HOW did you know? Who told you?”
“The—we learned,” I answered. “And we came.”
It was a poor explanation—or none at all. She seemed to think it so. And yet she seemed more hurt than offended.
“You came—yes,” she said. “And you knew that I left Paris because—Oh, you knew that! I asked you not to follow me. You promised you would not.”
I was ashamed, thoroughly ashamed and disgusted with myself for yielding to Hephzy's entreaties.
“No, no,” I protested, “I did not promise. I did not promise, Frances.”
“But you know I did not wish you to do it. I did not wish you to follow me to Paris, but you did it. I told you you would force me to give up my only means of earning money. You did force me to give it up. I gave it up to please you, for your sake, and now—”
“Did you?” I cried, eagerly. “Did you give it up for my sake, Frances? Did you?”
“You know I did. You must know it. And now that I have done it, now that I have given up my opportunity and my—my self-respect and my one chance and come here to this—to this place, you—you—Oh, how could you! Wasn't I unhappy enough before? And unhappy enough now? Oh, how could you!”
I was more ashamed than ever. I tried desperately to justify my action.