Viola sought her own apartments in a whirlwind of contending emotions, and threw herself upon a couch to sob and moan in passionate excitement.
Her father’s words and poor Merrington’s fate made her realize for the first time something of the enormity of what she had done.
She saw that her father was ashamed of her, and the pang cut deep, for she was proud of his love and his good opinion.
She remembered that Professor Desha had also expressed himself strongly against her flirtations.
Perhaps that was why he had withdrawn himself from her society, despising her for the same things that her father had so bitterly condemned.
Both of them she knew were high-minded men, and had a right to have their opinions respected.
Now that her folly and thoughtlessness had been shown her so plainly, Viola began to feel ashamed and remorseful over what had heretofore been her pride and delight.
“Oh, I am so sorry, so sorry!” she cried, remorsefully. “Indeed I did not realize that I was causing real pain to any one. But now I will never flirt again!”
While she was bathing her pink eyelids with eau-de-Cologne to remove the tell-tale trace of tears, Aunt Edwina came gliding in, and exclaimed:
“Oh, my dear, what is the matter? You have been crying!”