I
want to warn you. If you try to make mischief he will kill you."
"Ah," said Courthorne quietly. "Well, it wouldn't be very astonishing
if he attempted it, and nobody would blame him; but I have, as it
happens, no intention of provoking him. After all, it was my fault,
and you were too good for me, Ailly."
He stopped a moment and smiled, for there was in him a certain
half-whimsical cruelty. "Still, perhaps, it's a little rough on the
excellent Potter, though from what you said one would think that you
had told him--something."
The crimson crept into the girl's cheek. "He knows everything--except
who you are. That is why I am afraid. If he found out, I think one of
you would never leave this place."
Courthorne shrugged his shoulders. "I believe I owe you enough to go
away to-morrow. It would be wiser. I am not, as you know, a model of
discretion, and it's, perhaps, natural that, now you have given me up,
you appear rather more attractive than ever. In fact, I almost feel
tempted to stay to see if I'm not a match for Potter. Still, I'll go
away. I suppose you haven't heard from Larry lately?"
He saw the returning fear in her face give place to pain and bitterness
as he concluded, and he made a little sign of comprehension.
"Well, perhaps, one couldn't blame him. You are going back to England
with Potter after the wedding?"
His companion said she was, and Courthorne sat silent a moment or two,
for the news was at once a relief to him and a cause of thoughtfulness.
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