"That's where I interfered, Miss Vining. And the footman looked doubtful, too, but he signalled the chauffeur.... And so I went to the Café Cammargue——"
He hesitated, looking at her white and distressed face, then continued coolly:
"Sprowl seemed surprised to see me. He was waiting in a private room.... He's looking rather badly these days.... We talked a few minutes——"
Pale, angry, every sense of modesty and reserve outraged, the girl faced him, small head erect:
"You went there to—to discuss me with that man!"
He was silent. She turned suddenly and tried to open the door, but he held it closed.
"I did it because I cared for you enough to do it," he said. "Don't you understand? Don't you suppose I know that kind of man?"
"It—it was not your business—" she faltered, twisting blindly at the door-knob. "Let me go—please——"
"I made it my business.... And that man understood that I was making it my business. And he won't attempt to annoy you again.... Can you forgive me?"
She turned on him excitedly, her eyes flashing with tears, but the impetuous words of protest died on her lips as her eyes encountered his.