Where was all her boasting, now, that she would teach him a lesson; that he would be back in a day begging her to take back his ring?
She had met her match; she realized it now; remembering, all too late, how hard he had been to win; a lukewarm lover, after all, and perhaps glad now of his release.
Oh, if she could but have recalled that silly note, she would have given anything she possessed, for all the heart she had had been lavished on him.
With a genuine sob of choking regret, she flung the humiliating note to her mother, and sank into a chair, her face hidden in her hands.
Mrs. Clarke read, and exclaimed:
"Really, he need not comment on your temper while displaying an equally hasty one so plainly. He must certainly be very angry, but I suppose his suffering adds to his impatience."
"He—he—will forgive me when he reads my second note!" sobbed Roma.
"But you do not intend to send it now, Roma!" exclaimed Mrs. Clarke, with a certain resentment of her own at Jesse's brusqueness.
But Roma could be very inconsistent—overbearing when it was permitted to her; humble when cowed.
She lifted up a miserable face, replying eagerly: