She stood dismayed.
"I thought you told me you were going on Friday—to-morrow."
"I merely set that as a probable date. I have changed my mind. There is no immediate necessity. Do you wish me to go?" he demanded.
She had turned away, and was straightening the books on the table.
"Why should I?" she said.
"You wouldn't object to my remaining a few days more?" He had reached the doorway.
"What have I to do with your staying?" she asked.
"Everything," he answered—and was gone.
She stood still. The feeling that possessed her now was rebellion, and akin to hate.
Her conduct, therefore, becomes all the more incomprehensible when we find her accepting, the next afternoon, his invitation to sail on Mr. Farnham's yacht, the 'Folly'. It is true that the gods will not exonerate Mrs. Shorter. That lady, who had been bribed with Alfred Dewing, used her persuasive powers; she might be likened to a skilful artisan who blew wonderful rainbow fabrics out of glass without breaking it; she blew the tender passion into a thousand shapes, and admired every one. Her criminal culpability consisted in forgetting the fact that it could not be trusted with children.