“I like him. He is thoroughly genuine. I respect him, and—he respects me.”
“It's rather a silly game, you know.”
“What game?”
“Do you think I don't understand?”
“Perhaps you do. I—I don't really care a lot about him, Max. But I've been down-hearted. He cheers me up.”
Her attraction for him was almost gone—not quite. He felt rather sorry for her.
“I'm sorry. Then you are not angry with me?”
“Angry? No.” She lifted her eyes to his, and for once she was not acting. “I knew it would end, of course. I have lost a—a lover. I expected that. But I wanted to keep a friend.”
It was the right note. Why, after all, should he not be her friend? He had treated her cruelly, hideously. If she still desired his friendship, there was no disloyalty to Sidney in giving it. And Carlotta was very careful. Not once again did she allow him to see what lay in her eyes. She told him of her worries. Her training was almost over. She had a chance to take up institutional work. She abhorred the thought of private duty. What would he advise?
The Lamb was hovering near, hot eyes on them both. It was no place to talk.