"Please, eat some supper, dear——"
There was heart-break in the answer: "I cannot. I'm distressed, because I have spoiled yours.... You have answered everything readily—and it has hurt you.... I—feel—as—if—I—must—tell—you—why—I—asked—or I wouldn't have dared to force questions upon you. His letters made me think of him a great deal. When you picked up his book the other morning and said that—why, it was all I could stand for the time. His work is so high and brave—I can hardly understand how he could talk about a woman whose only fault was that she gave him what he desired. Are you sure he cannot prove that false?"
Selma Cross left her seat at the table and took Paula in her arms.
"How can he?" she whispered. "The old man knew all about us. One of his friends heard Charter talking about the easy virtue of stage women—that there were scarcely no exceptions! Charter hinted in his article that acting is but refined prostitution. Villiers said because I had a name for being square Charter had chosen to prove otherwise!... Then see how he dropped me—not a word in three years from my memorable lover! And Villiers knew about us—first and last!... I could murder that sort—and to think that his devil's gift has been working upon you——"
"You have told me quite enough, thank you." Paula interrupted in a lifeless voice. "I shall not see him."
Selma Cross held her off at arms' length to glance at her face. "You what?" she exclaimed.
"He is on the way to New York and will be at the Granville to-morrow afternoon, where he hopes to find a note saying he may call here to-morrow night. There shall be no note from me——"
"But did you write to him, Paula?" the actress asked strangely excited.
"Yes—a little after you left me the other morning. It was silly of me. Oh, but I did not tell him what I had heard—or who told me!... Finish your supper—you must go."
"And how did you learn of his coming?"