Patterson rose at the sound of her voice. “It’s all right,” he said unsteadily. “You’ve never encouraged me to hope—I might have known,” he sighed wearily. “But it’s human nature to feed on hope. Tell me, Ethel, is it Julian Barclay?” She did not need to answer, the light that crept into her eyes at mention of Barclay’s name betrayed her. Patterson’s hands clenched spasmodically.
“It’s bitter to lose you,” he acknowledged, and his tone proved the truth of his words. “But to Julian Barclay—a stranger—where in God’s name does he come from?”
“Chicago,” Ethel looked at him in astonishment.
“So he says, but I don’t believe it,” Patterson clutched the back of a chair with hard gripping fingers. “I don’t believe it,” he reiterated. “I’ve asked, and no one has heard of him there. I don’t trust him.”
“Nonsense!” Ethel’s sympathy was rapidly changing to anger. “Mr. Barclay is a cousin of our hostess, Mrs. Ogden.”
“And who was Mrs. Ogden before her marriage?” Patterson laughed dryly, then noting her expression he added: “Good God! Ethel, I am only thinking of you, of your future—and I don’t believe Julian Barclay can make you happy.”
“I prefer not to discuss the matter further,” answered Ethel coldly; then as he winced, she added impulsively: “Can’t we be friends, Jim?”
He clasped her extended hand eagerly. “Friends,” he repeated. “Yes, I’ll be your friend; in spite of yourself, Ethel, you shall be guarded against Julian Barclay. I’ve seen him somewhere before”—he broke off as Ethel tried to withdraw her hand from his clasp. “To think I’ve lost you,” he muttered brokenly. “Ethel, my Ethel,” and drawing her to him, he kissed her passionately.
“Pardon!” exclaimed an astonished voice behind them, and Ethel wrenching herself free, darted into the hall not waiting to see who the newcomer was. Professor Norcross picked up some papers from the table, and casting a curious glance at Patterson, who presented his back to him, retreated to the waiting automobile.
Safe in her bedroom Ethel flung herself on the bed and strove to regain her lost composure. She was furiously angry with James Patterson, more angry than she had been in years with anyone. It was horrid of him to have kissed her, she passed her handkerchief across her lips; it was outrageous of him to have tried to prejudice her against Julian Barclay.