"Oh!" she cried, trembling.
But he looked at her, unrepentant, with the light of triumph in his eyes.
"I'll never forgive you!" she exclaimed, breathless.
"I gloried in it," he replied. "I shall remember it as long as I live, and I'll do it again."
She did not answer him. She dropped her veil, and for a long space was silent while they rapidly threaded the traffic, and at length turned into upper Fifth Avenue, skirting the Park. She did not so much as glance at him. But he seemed content to watch her veiled profile in the dusk.
Her breath, in the first tumult of her thought, came and went deeply. But gradually as the street lights burned brighter and familiar sights began to appear, she grew more controlled and became capable of reflection. She remembered that there was a train for Quicksands at seven-fifteen, which Howard had taken once or twice. But she felt that the interval was too short. In that brief period she could not calm herself sufficiently to face her guests. Indeed, the notion of appearing alone, or with Brent, at that dinner-party, appalled her. And suddenly an idea presented itself.
Brent leaned over, and began to direct the chauffeur to a well-known hotel. She interrupted him.
"No," she said, "I'd rather go to the Holland House."
"Very well," he said amicably, not a little surprised at this unlooked-for acquiescence, and then told his man to keep straight on down the Avenue.
She began mechanically to rearrange her hat and veil; and after that, sitting upright, to watch the cross streets with feverish anticipation, her hands in her lap.