But he would not take warning of her words or her manner; this new career was drawing her away from him and the thought of losing her was intolerable.
“If you haven’t taken that step, if you are still free, won’t you give me my chance?”
“No, no! Please don’t spoil this evening for me; I know you don’t mean to be unkind—but you are!”
“But why should you throw away your freedom; you owe something to yourself!” he pleaded. “See what has come to you; think of what you would lose if you let this imagined duty to Joe interfere with your success.”
“I made up my mind that night when I told you my story; and I shall not change it. Poor Joe! I had hurt him so that he doesn’t want to take me back—but the tie exists. Nothing you could say would ever change my feeling about it.”
The lines of his face hardened and his jaw set. Having, like a child, resolved to be “good,” he saw no reason why he should not at once pluck the stars for his reward. The penitent is never so humble but that he demands immediate share in paradisiacal joys.
“You will be leaving at once. I suppose I shall not see you again,” he remarked, the dejection showing in his face.
“Yes; I shall be going in a day or two, but I shan’t forget you. You are one of my friends; we mustn’t let anything spoil that.”
Mrs. Blair’s eyes were upon her and she rose. Richardson and Wingfield were leaving, and the editor had some last words for Jean. Mr. Blair was to take the men down in his car and Jean left with them, wrapped—for the good woman would not be denied—in Mrs. Blair’s ermine opera cloak.
Wayne was pacing the floor, smoking, when Mrs. Blair came back from seeing Jean off. She threw her arms about her brother impulsively.