She looked down with a slight increase of colour. "I oughtn't to have
said it, ought I? But the fact is I'm unhappy--and a little hurt--"
"Unhappy? Hurt?" He was at her side again. "Why, what's wrong?"
She lifted her eyes with a grave look. "I thought you'd be sorrier to
leave me."
"Oh, it won't be for long--it needn't be, you know." He was perceptibly
softening. "It's damnable, the way you're tied down. Fancy rotting all
summer in the Adirondacks! Why do you stand it? You oughtn't to be bound
for life by a girl's mistake."
The lashes trembled slightly on her cheek. "Aren't we all bound by our
mistakes--we women? Don't let us talk of such things! Ralph would never
let me go abroad without him." She paused, and then, with a quick upward
sweep of the lids: "After all, it's better it should be good-bye--since
I'm paying for another mistake in being so unhappy at your going."
"Another mistake? Why do you call it that?"
"Because I've misunderstood you--or you me." She continued to smile at
him wistfully. "And some things are best mended by a break."
He met her smile with a loud sigh--she could feel him in the meshes
again. "IS it to be a break between us?"
"Haven't you just said so? Anyhow, it might as well be, since we shan't
be in the same place again for months."
The frock-coated gentleman once more languished from his eyes: she
thought she trembled on the edge of victory. "Hang it," he broke out,
"you ought to have a change--you're looking awfully pulled down. Why
can't you coax your mother to run over to Paris with you? Ralph couldn't
object to that."
She shook her head. "I don't believe she could afford it, even if I
could persuade her to leave father. You know father hasn't done very
well lately: I shouldn't like to ask him for the money."
"You're so confoundedly proud!" He was edging nearer. "It would all be
so easy if you'd only be a little fond of me..."
She froze to her sofa-end. "We women can't repair our mistakes. Don't
make me more miserable by reminding me of mine."
"Oh, nonsense! There's nothing cash won't do. Why won't you let me
straighten things out for you?"
Her colour rose again, and she looked him quickly and consciously in
the eye. It was time to play her last card. "You seem to forget that I
am--married," she said.
Van Degen was silent--for a moment she thought he was swaying to her in
the flush of surrender. But he remained doggedly seated, meeting her
look with an odd clearing of his heated gaze, as if a shrewd businessman
had suddenly replaced the pining gentleman at the window.
"Hang it--so am I!" he rejoined; and Undine saw that in the last issue
he was still the stronger of the two.