Again she was held by those mocking eyes, again she was thrilled by that mad race in the rain. She saw him as he had been on the night of the yacht club dance, with his laughing air of conquest; as he had been in the great library, saying steadily, "I am your lover——"
He had gone from her, angry, that night because she would give him no explanation of her refusal to take the silver ring.
"I cannot, I cannot," she had repeated.
He had caught hold of her hands. "You are not a flirt," he had said; "you are too sweet and good for that—but what do you mean by your mysteries——Oh, why can't you tell me the truth?"
She had looked at him, dumbly, and he had rushed away, leaving her unforgiven.
She had written at once to Diana, asking to be released from her promise to keep her engagement secret. "People ought to know," was the reason she gave.
She had also telephoned to Anthony. She wanted to see him. To tell him that she would marry him as soon as he wished. That would be the solution. Then Justin would understand, and would forgive her.
She felt that more than anything in the whole wide world she wanted Justin's forgiveness.
Anthony had come, and they had gone into the library where she had talked with Justin, and Anthony, preoccupied and silent, had placed a chair for her, and had stood where Justin had stood. And she had shivered and had begged, "Sit down where I can see you."
He had taken the chair opposite her, and suddenly she had surprised herself and him by coming over to him, and slipping to her knees beside his chair, and sobbing with her face hidden.