“I quite enjoyed my luncheon,” he said. “You all heard that stupid outburst of Millicent’s last night; so there is no harm in telling you that she regrets it. She is leaving the hotel forthwith.”
Helen rose suddenly. “She is one of my few friends,” she said. “I cannot let her go in anger.”
“She is unworthy of your friendship,” exclaimed Bower sharply. “Take my advice and forget that she exists.”
“You cannot forget that anyone exists, or has existed,” said Spencer quietly.
“What? You too?” said Bower. His eyes sought the American’s, and flashed an unspoken challenge.
He felt that the world was a few hundred years too old. There were historical precedents for settling affairs such as that now troubling him by means that would have appealed to him. But he opposed no further hindrance to Helen’s departure. Indeed, he perceived that her meeting with Millicent would provide in some sense a test of his own judgment. He would soon learn whether or not money would prevail.
He waited a little while, and then sent his valet with the check and a request for an acknowledgment. The man brought him a scribbled note:
“Was rather taken aback by appearance of H. She says you told her I was leaving the hotel. We fell on each other’s neck and wept. Is that right? M. J.”
He cut the end off a cigar, lit the paper with a match, and lit the cigar with the paper.