“It looks that way,” Brainard said.
“If it does, it doesn’t worry me in the least. I don’t waste our time trying to prove to you that I am Honest and Disinterested, that I came here to-night really out of friendly interest in you—to try with the aid of my equable temperament and clear intelligence to avoid the mistakes that are likely to occur when excessive desire meets excessive virtue. But I have failed. You two will have to make up your accounts alone—or with the vulgar assistance of the courts. Good luck to you. And good night!”
He extended one hand to Brainard and the other to Farson.
“I will give myself the pleasure of setting you down at your hotel,” he said to the actress, who was slowly and somewhat regretfully buttoning her fur coat.
When Farson and the actress had left the room, Brainard detained Hollinger and said contritely:
“I’m afraid I did suspect you of collusion with Miss Walters—I’m sorry, for I have always liked you.”
“It’s very natural. You yourself must know how hard it is in this world to be really disinterested without incurring unjust suspicions. However, that’s nothing!”
“The trouble is I can’t understand you—never did!”
“I’m afraid I can’t return the compliment. I flatter myself that I understand you thoroughly.”
“Do you remember that first time I met you—on the train, the Overland Limited, going to California? You were in your compartment reading Paradise Lost with the help of a dictionary.”