"I didn't say so, but she is."
"Doesn't she care for Bob any more?"
"Y-yes! At first she was furious, but we've talked a good deal, and I think she does care—away down underneath. She may not know it herself, but she does, especially now that—"
"What?" asked Pope, as Adoree hesitated and flushed.
"Nothing! But she won't go back. She declares she won't spoil her whole life for a drunken wretch like him, and she's quite right, of course."
"She's quite wrong, of course! Bob's done pretty well for a man of his type, and he's had a hard lesson. After all, it's a woman's part to sacrifice—she's not happy unless she gives more than she gets. You and I must bring them together."
"How?"
Pope had been thinking while he talked, and now he sketched his plan eagerly.
"You are perfectly detestable and horrid," she told him when he had finished, "but I suppose there must be some good in you. Don't think you argued me into this, however, for you didn't. There's an altogether different reason why I want those two to make up." She laid her hand upon his arm again, and when Pope caught her meaning his sallow cheeks were glowing and his eyes as bright as hers.
"Gee! You're all right!" said he. "I'll call for you after the show."