Connie came swiftly back from dreams of Petrovitch and seized Noel’s arm.
“Noel! You can’t mean that! You can’t mean that you’d drop me—have nothing more to do with me? Oh, Noel!”
“I’ve said it and I mean it. It’s up to you. If you have anything more to do with that bounder, I’ll have nothing more to do with you. And that’s flat.”
She pleaded with him. He didn’t understand Petrovitch. He didn’t understand her. Ordinary rules didn’t apply to him because he was a genius, nor to her because she loved him. If Noel were older——
That was more than he could bear.
“That’ll do, Connie. I’m not a fool. I’ve been sorry for you because you were down on your luck; and anyway, I’m always sorry for people like you. And I’m fond of you, too. But if you’re going to be so damn weak, and slop over with disgusting sentiment—well, I’m off.”
Connie looked out of the window again.
“If you’ll pull up and try to make something of your life, I’m with you. If not, I’m through.”
“I can’t give him up,” moaned Connie. “I want to talk over old times with him, and hear him say that he loved me once. It means everything to me. I must talk to him, Noel!”
“All right. Then that’s that. Well, I’m walking home. I feel I need a little air after all this. It’s good-by then, Connie?”