“God keep you, darling,” he whispered, bending over her and touching her dusky hair with his lips.
He found his hat, walked with unsteady feet as a man walks under a heavy load, her eyes following his every step, and reached the door. There he paused, his hand fumbling at the knob, opened the door, halted yet an instant, but without turning he passed out of her sight.
An hour later Margaret came in and found her sitting where Barney had left her, dazed and tearless.
“He is gone,” she said dully.
Margaret turned upon her. “Gone? Yes. I have just seen him.”
“And I love him,” continued Iola, looking up at her with heavy eyes.
“Love him! You don't know what love means! Love him! And for your paltry, selfish ambition you send from you a man whose shoes you are not worthy to tie!”
“Oh, Margaret!” cried Iola piteously.
“Don't talk to me!” she replied, her lip quivering. “I can't bear to look at you!” and she passed into her room.
It was intolerable to her that this girl should have regarded lightly the love she herself would have died to gain. But long after Iola had sobbed herself to sleep in her arms Margaret lay wakeful for her own pain and for that of the man she loved better than her life.