"Don't make it so hard for me to tell you."
"I don't want to hear any more about it now, Marian. I can't stand it--I
hardly know what I'm saying--wait a few days--let's go on as we have
been--here they come."
The others of the party came bustling into the car and the train started.
For the rest of the journey Danvers avoided her, keeping to the smoking
room and the game of poker there. Marian could neither read nor watch the
landscape. She did not know whether to be glad or sorry that she had told
him. She hated to think that she had inflicted pain and she could not
believe, in spite of what she had seen in his eyes, that his feeling in the
matter was more than jealousy and wounded vanity.
"He doesn't really care for me," she thought. "It's his pride that is hurt.
He will flare out at me and break it off. I do hope he'll get angry. It
will make it so much easier for me."
Late in the afternoon she took Mrs. Carnarvon into her confidence. "I've
told Teddy," she said.
"I might have known!" exclaimed her cousin. "What on earth made you do
that?"
"I don't know--perhaps shame."
"Shame--trash! Your life is going to be a fine turmoil if you run to Teddy
with an account of every little mild flirtation you happen to have. Of all
the imbeciles, the most imbecile is the woman who confesses.
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