"You seemed rather happy yourself, when I saw you yesterday," he observed, with a covert sneer, after an interval of awkward silence; "and"—glancing curiously about him—"you appear to be remarkably prosperous, also."
"I am prosperous; I am well established in my profession here."
"As 'Madam Ford,' I perceived, as I rang your bell. So you dropped the old name?" said John Hungerford, in a tone of exceeding bitterness.
"Yes, the first half of it, as I also dropped that half of my life for all time; but for Dorothy, I would have retained no part of it," said Helen tersely.
Her companion's lips twitched, while his bony hands gripped the arms of his chair convulsively.
"You are handsomer than ever, Helen; you don't begin to show your years," he presently observed, as he swept her face and figure with yearning but gloomy eyes.
She did not deign to reply, although she moved restlessly where she stood, as if his words annoyed her beyond endurance.
"I suppose you haven't much love left for me?" he falteringly resumed, after a minute, the silence between them becoming embarrassing again.
"Love—for you!" she retorted, with an emphasis that caused him to shrink as from a blow.
"Well, I'm not claiming that I deserve anything of the kind from you," he remarked, in a weak voice, at the same time drawing in a quick, deep breath. "However, there is some solace in remembering that you were once fond of me. Maybe, not having heard from me for so long, you have believed me dead?"