I remember it, because
Steptoe came by a minute after he'd gone, in another buggy, and as he
was going to the Divide, too, I wondered why the gentleman hadn't gone
with him."
"And he left no message for me? He said nothing?" asked Mrs. Barker,
quite breathless, but still smiling.
"He said nothin' to me but 'Isn't that Steptoe over there?' when Steptoe
came in. And I remember he said it kinder suddent--as if he was reminded
o' suthin' he'd forgot; and then he asked for a buggy. Ye see,
miss," added the man, with a certain rough consideration for her
disappointment, "that's mebbe why he clean forgot to leave a message."
Mrs. Barker turned away, and ascended the stairs. Selfishness is quick
to recognize selfishness, and she saw in a flash the reason of Van Loo's
abandonment of her. Some fear of discovery had alarmed him; perhaps
Steptoe knew her husband; perhaps he had heard of Mrs. Horncastle's
possession of the sitting-room; perhaps--for she had not seen him since
their playful struggle at the door--he had recognized the woman who was
there, and the selfish coward had run away. Yes; Mrs. Horncastle was
right: she had been only a miserable dupe.
Her cheeks blazed as she entered the room she had just quitted,
and threw herself in a chair by the window. She bit her lip as she
remembered how for the last three months she had been slowly yielding
to Van Loo's cautious but insinuating solicitation, from a flirtation in
the San Francisco hotel to a clandestine meeting in the street; from a
ride in the suburbs to a supper in a fast restaurant after the theatre.
Pages:
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122