She raised her eyes to his in a half-frightened glance, and said:
"Yes; let's go back."
He turned his horse, and for fifteen minutes they drove along in silence. There was now absolutely no pity in his heart. The vast black problem of his own tortured love seemed to be soaking into him from the very air about him.
He broke the silence.
"So you refused Bates?"
She looked at him again. "How did you know that?"
He laughed bitterly.
"He told me so; he's another fool."
"Mr. Westerfelt!"
"I beg your pardon," he amended, quickly; "but any man is a fool to be simply crazy about a woman, and he is."