She leaned more heavily than she knew, for all her spirit had gone, her springy step had deserted her, her head drooped sideways.
Luckily there was a taxi passing, and in a few minutes she found herself beside him on the narrow seat. For a moment she sat motionless, hardly realizing his presence. Then, with a childish impulse for comfort, she put her head on his shoulder, and commenced to sob.
“Colin, don’t think things.... I want to explain....”
His hand closed firmly over her cold one, cold, though the night was quite hot.
“Claudia, don’t ... there’s no need ... what are friends for?”
CHAPTER XVIII
DRUNK AND DISORDERLY
Claudia had slept but little that night, her thoughts going over the scene in the studio again and again, sometimes accusing herself, sometimes wondering at herself. One fact stood out clearly. Frank had not loved her, nor she him. What had Colin thought when he found her crouching on the stairs? She had offered to explain—but what could she have said?
With weary eyes and pale cheeks she took the letters from her maid’s hand. She was almost too tired to open them, but as the letters fell loosely on the coverlet, she saw one in Colin’s handwriting. With her heart beating fast, she picked it up and tore it open. For a moment she forgot that it had probably been posted before he brought her home from the studio.