The words made a mechanical impression on Jim Maxwell's consciousness. He stretched out his left arm, and his hand, from which he had not yet pulled off the riding-gauntlet, closed over the glass on the tray. He raised it toward his lips. His eyes fell on the note once more.
"You love another, so will perhaps not miss me."
The incredible words were there before him. And she had gone—she and Nell.... With Dan McGrew! The thing was impossible. There was no truth anywhere. He stared down at the letter, aghast at the horrible conundrum propounded to him by fate. Lou had gone—with Dan McGrew!... Why?
His eyes held to the note.
"—so I am going away."
The words beat a refrain of dreadfulness in his brain.
"—so I am going away."
His hand, holding the glass of water, clenched fiercely in the reflex of emotion. The glass was shivered, and the fragments were multiplied as his passion still sought expression in the violence of that clutch.
HIS HAND CLENCHED FIERCELY IN THE REFLEX OF EMOTION.