Clifford Standish started with blended surprise and joy, for he had not counted on such an easy victory.
He had expected that Geraldine would accuse him of falsehood, scorn him, flout him—do anything else but weaken in this simple way.
But his masculine vanity made the task of gulling him an easy one, for he thought instantly:
"How weak and silly women are! They will believe any garbled story a man chooses to tell them."
Aloud, he said, joyously:
"Then you believe me, Geraldine? They have not turned your heart against me?"
She answered, with seemingly pretty penitence:
"At first they did—for—for it all seemed so real on the stage last night—the arrest and all, you know. And I was wild with pain and humiliation; so I let them persuade me into anything. But, now that you have explained all to me, I see it in a different light, for of course you would not have wished to marry me if you had a wife already."
"Of course not," he echoed, smiling to himself at her innocent ignorance.