“I don’t know,... perhaps.”
“Besides, they sail to-day from Lorient. The governor made money yesterday—enough to start again. Poor Byram! He’s frantic to get back to America; and, oh, Scarlett, how that good old man can swear!”
“Help me to sit up in bed,” I said; “there—that’s it! Just wedge those pillows behind my shoulders.”
“All right?”
“Of course. I’m going to dress. Speed, did you say that little Jacqueline went with Byram?”
He looked at me miserably.
“Yes,” he said.
I was silent.
“Yes,” he repeated, “she went, lugging her pet cat in her arms. She would go; the life has fascinated her. I begged her not to—I felt I was disloyal to Byram, too, but what could I do? I tell you, Scarlett, I wish I had never seen her, never persuaded her to try 310 that foolish dive. She’ll miss some day—like the other one.”
“It’s my fault more than yours,” I said. “Couldn’t you persuade her to give it up?”