Now Rosalie, in hat and wraps, stood at the door carrying her suit case.
"Sorry to leave without notice, Mrs. Markham," she said, "but you remember I haven't drawn no pay as housekeeper for doin' you up. I guess we'd all better be goin'. Here's your hat, Dr. Blake, and a fur coat and boots for Miss Markham."
Paula Markham, twirling the fifty thousand dollar check idly in her fingers, rose from the piano stool.
"I wish you to listen, Dr. Blake," she said, "although you may not believe it, I am really fond of Annette. The temptation to use her became too strong. Believe me, I have intended for some time to stop it. I had stopped it in fact, when this big fish came to my net. You have seen, no more keenly than I, how hard it was on her nerves. Take her away and give her a good time—she needs it. Indeed, had you come into her life a little later, I should have welcomed you—for after I found that she had no clairvoyance in her, I wanted her to be happy."
"You had an admirable way of showing it," responded Dr. Blake. "What about putting aside earthly love for strength?"
"It kept off the undesirables," said Mrs. Markham, "and just then—with this large order in hand—you were an undesirable. I shall not ask you to let me see her for the present—indeed, I am going away—but years from now, when you and she have softened—"
"When her will is built up—perhaps."
"May I kiss her?" For the first time in his experience of her, Blake traced a note of feminine softness in Mrs. Markham's tones.
Blake took the back of the little head firmly in his hand, pressed the face tightly on his shoulder.
"Her cheek—yes. You must not look into her eyes."