"I woke up this morning, about five o'clock, thinking of him, and as I thought a vague, wild plan which had been haunting me took form. If Mohammed wouldn't come to the mountain, the mountain would go to Mohammed. You see, I have reversed the figure, as is right in this case. It was a wild idea, but once I got it clearly in my head there was nothing to do but go through with it. I knew I would be found out; I knew all that you and Jack and Marjorie would think, even if you didn't say it. But there comes a time when none of these things matter—do you understand? . . .
"So I dressed as quietly as I could, and slipped out. It wasn't snowing then; the stars were bright and numberless; I got my bearings and struck out. As I passed your shanty I stopped at your window. All was dark and still. 'Dear old boy,' I whispered against your window pane, 'I wish things were different—but they're not.'"
She had laced her fingers again about her knees, but now she dropped the hand next to me, and it fell on mine. There was nothing surreptitious about it; it was deliberate, designed, aggressive.
"I had covered most of the distance before it began to snow. Then I was in danger for a while, but I made it all right. Unfortunately, Spoof is not an early riser. He was surprised to see me."
She stopped, and for a long while gazed into space, as though studying what she would say next.
"Well, I proposed to him. He refused me," she said quietly.
"Refused you? . . . Do you mean that's the whole story?"
"That's the substance; I told you I would leave out the frills. You can decorate it to your liking. One of the secrets of art is to not over-state yourself—leave something to the imagination. The more intelligent the audience, the more may be left to the imagination. You are an intelligent audience, Frank."
Through my absurd concern for, I hardly knew what, her adorable tantalization seethed in me like an electric current. And so selfish am I—and all men—that it was some minutes before I realized that Jean had received a knock-out blow; that she had humiliated herself to this man Spoof; that she had placed her womanhood at his feet, and he had spurned it. Just what it was for me to lose Jean, just that same must it be for Jean to lose Spoof.
"And he refused you—refused you," I repeated, when this thought had settled clearly in my mind. "Jean, I don't see how—any man—could do that."