Jenny Davis' hands dropped from Cleo's shoulders.
"Orito!"
The two looked at each other in tragic silence.
"Cleo, how could you do it? There were enough without him;—when was it? how? tell me all about it—Oh! poor little Numè!"
"It was on the steamer——"
"On the steamer," her friend repeated, stupidly. "Yes, go on;—well, and what happened—you——?"
"Yes—I did it deliberately—I made him—care for me. I was lonely, and wanted to be amused. The passengers were uninteresting and stupid. He was different, with his gentle, odd ways. Sometimes I got almost frightened of myself, because he took everything so seriously. I did not mean to—to really hurt him. I wanted to see how a Japanese would act if he were in love, and—and Tom kept telling me how proof he was against women—and—Oh, Jenny, when he did speak out to me, I had not the courage, then, to tell him the truth. And all the time I knew it—but——"
Her friend's shocked face startled her.
"Yes; I understand," she said, bitterly. "I knew you would hate me—I deserve it—only I——"