Maude laughed a light laugh. "This movement of theirs is putting you out of conceit of your old love, Val."
"What movement?" he rejoined; and he would not have asked the question had his thoughts not gone wool-gathering.
"You are dreaming, Val. The action."
"Ah, yes, to be sure."
"Have you heard yet what damages they claim?"
He shook his head. "You promised not to speak of this, Maude; even to me."
"Who is to help speaking of it, when you allow it to take your ease away? I never in my life saw any one so changed as you are. I wish the thing were over and done with, though it left you a few thousand pounds the poorer. Will you accompany me to this dinner to-day? I am sick of appearing alone and making excuses for you."
"I wish I knew what to do for the best—what my course ought to be!" thought Hartledon within his conscience. "I can't bear to be seen with her in public. When I face people with her on my arm, it seems as if they must know what sort of man she, in her unconsciousness, is leaning upon."
"I'll go with you to-day, Maude, as you press it. I was to have seen Mr. Carr, but can send down to him."
"Then don't be five minutes dressing: it is time we went."