"Yes, but do you think she will?"
"No," said Winfield, "I do not believe she ever will." He was sorry, after he had spoken, that he had not fenced with the question, so terrible was the look in Leicester's eyes.
"Ah," he replied, "I was only curious to know what you thought. I have always looked upon you as a level-headed fellow."
"I think," said Winfield, "that her pride was wounded, that she was very angry at being made the subject of a wager. What woman wouldn't? Then that conversation we had together a few weeks ago was made to look very black. Of course you might write a letter, giving a full explanation. By to-morrow she will be able to see things in a clearer light."
"No," said Leicester, "she never will."
Winfield was silent.
"Still, I'll write the letter."
"I should."
"I'll write it as soon as we get back to the club. I'll state the whole truth. I ought to have done it before."
"It would have been best. But who would have thought that those two fellows would have——"