"Do you remember the last night I was at Nunsmere?"
"Yes. You fainted."
"I had seen the announcement of the man's marriage in the newspaper."
She told her story briefly and defiantly, asking for no sympathy, proclaiming it all ad majorem Septimi gloriam. Zora sat looking at her paralyzed with helplessness, like one who, having gone lightly forth to shoot rabbits, suddenly comes upon a lion.
"Why didn't you tell me—at the time—before?"
"Did you ever encourage me to give you my confidence? You patted me on the head, too, and never concerned yourself about my affairs. I was afraid of you—deadly afraid of you. It sounds rather silly now, doesn't it? But I was."
Zora made no protest against the accusation. She sat quite still, her eyes fixed on the foot of the bassinette, adjusting her soul to new and startling conceptions. She said in a whisper:
"My God, what a fool I've been!"
The words lingered a haunting echo in her ears. They were mockingly familiar. Where had she heard them recently? Suddenly she remembered. She raised her head and glanced at Emmy in anything but a proud way.
"You said something just now about Clem Sypher having sacrificed a fortune for me. What was it? I had better hear everything."