ward, her hands clasped at her knees to prevent their trembling.
Randall clearly made an effort to speak normally. His tone had resumed its professional quality. It was, in a sense, soothing, but the power of the words themselves could not be diminished, and, as he went on, her emotions strayed farther and farther from the boundaries she had plainly tried to impose.
"I overheard," he said. "It was Delafield and Ross. I went to Ross. I felt I knew him well enough. My dear! It's common scandal—much worse, I'll do you the credit of saying, than the facts. You've been seen with Treving in cafés of doubtful reputation, and out here on Long Island, at some of these unspeakable road houses—"
He turned away.
"People aren't kind at construing those things. He was a damned scoundrel to take you to such places."
"I'll judge that," she said. "If it's all you have to charge me with!"
"Isn't it enough? Good God! How indiscreet!"
"Then why not tell all this to Freddy Treving?" she asked.
The lines about his mouth tightened.
"Treving," he said with an affectation of simplicity, "came into the club while I was talking with Ross. He had been drinking—a great deal. I didn't realize it at first—it's quite necessary you
