She stood waiting for a while: “Will you ring, sir, when you decide?”
“Yes, I will, Xantippe.... Thank you.”
After she had been gone for some time: “Well,” he breathed, “I—I can’t call her and keep any self-respect.... I simply can’t do it.... She’s through with me anyway.... I suppose I acted like a cad.... She wasn’t the girl to understand such affairs.... She is better than such things.... Or too stupid for them.... Stupid in that way only.... Too damned serious.... My God, what a hiding she gave me for my book!... But the other was worse.... I haven’t any self-respect when I remember that.... If I call her now, she can’t take any more away from me, as she’s got all I had....”
He came back to the telephone. He could feel the painful colour hot in his face as he unhooked the receiver.
In a hard voice he called her number.
“Now,” he said with an oath, “she can do her damnedest!”
She did.
CHAPTER XXIII
HATTIE’S voice answered him: “Who is it, please?”
“Mr. Annan. Is Miss Odell at home?”