"Thank you," she said stiffly—"but I don't think I want that. I only want a life I can live and hold my self-respect."
"And you come to Hollywood to find it?"
She flushed darkly and with an angry movement got up. "Please come."
Her maid was waiting in the dressing-room, but Lucinda sent the woman to explain to Mrs. Lontaine that they might be a few minutes delayed, and told her not to come back till sent for. Alone with Bellamy, she showed him a face on fire with challenge.
"You said you wanted to explain, Bel; you won't get another chance."
He nodded soberly. "Quite realize that. But this once will do, can say all I want to in three minutes. Then you're free to call it quits for good, if you like."
That posed her rudely. Did he mean—could it be possible he meant he had become reconciled to the rift in their relations? Had the arrow she had loosed into the dark, that night when Bel had broken his appointment with her, flown straight to the mark? Was Bel really "cured?" He had that look; there was deference without abasement in his bearing, if regret now and then tinged his tone it conveyed no hint of repining. By every sign he was doing very well without her.
"Can you doubt that's what I'll 'like,' Bel? Or what must I do, more than I've already done, to prove I ask nothing better than to call it quits for good with you?"
"Oh, you've done all that was needed, thanks. I'm convinced—have been for some weeks, if you want to know—in fact, from the moment when I found out you'd lost your head over a movie actor."
"Indeed?" Lucinda mastered an impulse to bite her lip. "And have you anything to say about that?"