How strange were life and life's emotions! Although her picture was destroyed—(he had done it in anger that fatal night) her image rose clear in his mind.
Of the two women he missed her most—in the flood-tide of his return. Her stronger personality, the power of wit and imagination that blent with her careless scorn of men, her nameless, utterly feminine charm, had survived that other disillusion.
He put Cydonia's portrait back quickly as Bethune re-entered the room. Then, conscious that his hasty action had not escaped his friend's eyes, in an indifferent voice, he asked:
"Ever hear anything of the Cadells?"
"Yes—no!" Bethune turned to the sideboard, horribly at a loss. He coughed, then started with a plunge to get his unwelcome news over.
"Met 'Jinks' the other day—remember 'Jinks' of Trinity?—got his blue for Rugger—Well, he knows Miss Cadell—that was."
"What?" McTaggart's voice was sharp.
Bethune, fidgeting with the syphon, his back turned to his friend, received a sudden baptism, stinging and cold, of soda water.
"Oh, damn!—now I've spilled it. Yes, that's it—She's married, you know. A chap called Euan Flemming—an M.P. for ... God knows where!"
"Well—I'm blessed!" McTaggart laughed; a little sourly, truth to tell. Despite the conclusion arrived at earlier he felt somewhat taken aback.