"Nearer, nearer, nearer," went through his head.
"It has been a long time since I've seen you," he said, "but even so I wish you hadn't come here."
"Why did you come?" she asked.
"Because I thought I should find you."
"Why did you think that?"
"I'd heard Blodgett had been a good deal at Oakmont. I guessed if Lambert came you would, too."
"It is impertinent you should interest yourself in my movements. Why—why do you do it?"
"Because everything you do absorbs me. Why else do you suppose I took the trouble at Betty's dance years ago to tell you who I was?"
She drew back without answering. Her movement caught his attention. The change in her manner, the white night, made him bold.
"I've often wondered," he said, "why you didn't remember me that day in Princeton, or that night. It hadn't been long. Don't you see it was an acknowledgment that I wasn't the old George Morton even then?"