“I must go down,” she said. And waited for the man to stand aside. He did not move and their eyes met. Suddenly, like a child, she buried her face in her arm flung out across his chest. She began to sob bitterly.
“That afternoon ... in the billiard-room ...” she sobbed, “you will forget ... that ... too ... I suppose ...”
Robin took her face in his hands, a hot, tear-stained face, and detached it from the sheltering arm.
“My dear,” he said, “I shall have to try to forget it. But I know I shan’t succeed. To the end of my life I shall remember the kiss you gave me. But we are farther apart than ever now!”
There was a great sadness in his voice. It arrested the girl’s attention as he dropped his hands and turned back to the rail.
“Why?” she said in a low voice, without looking up.
“Because,” replied the young man steadily, “you’re rich now, Mary ...”
The girl looked up quickly.
“Will men ever understand women?” she cried, a new note in her voice. She stepped forward and, putting her two hands on the young man’s shoulders, swung him round to face her.
“I’m as poor as ever I was,” she said, “for Hartley Parrish’s money is not for me ...”