THE AMERICAN
he needed to pour out his ire, and he took the road to her house. She was at home and alone, and as soon as she had looked at him, on his entering the room, she told him she knew what he had come for. He sat down heavily, in silence, with his eyes on her.
"They've backed out!" she said without his even needing to tell her. "Well, you may think it strange, but I felt something the other night in the air." Presently he gave her his account; she listened while her whole face took it in. When he had finished she said quietly: "They want her to marry Lord Deepmere." Newman stared—he did n't know she knew anything about Lord Deepmere. "But I don't think she will," Mrs. Tristram added.
"She marry that poor little cub!" cried Newman. "Oh Lord save us! And yet why else can she have so horribly treated me?"
"But that is n't the only thing," said Mrs. Tristram. ""They really could n't live with you any longer. They had overrated their courage. I must say, to give the devil his due, that there's something rather fine in that. It was your commercial quality in the abstract, and the mere historic facts of your washtubs and other lucrative wares, that they could n't swallow. That's really consistent—the inconsistency had been the other way. They wanted your money, but they've given you up for an idea."
Newman frowned most ruefully and took up his hat again. "I thought you 'd encourage me!" he brought out with almost juvenile sadness.
"Pardon my trying to understand—of course it does n't concern you to understand," she answered
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