THE AUTHOR OF "TRIXIE"
129
"Yes," she said, "I understand you, Bisham. But what I don't and can't understand is why you consented to this infamy!"
"I did it for you!" he howled. "My price was your father's consent to our marrying. What do you suppose I cared for my position in the world of letters, where your happiness was at stake? If I hadn't done this thing—this infamy, as you call it—you and I would still be only engaged; whereas"
He broke off, for Chloë had fallen on his neck and a good deal of the heavy fur collar of her heavy fur coat had made its way into his open mouth.
"Oh, Bish!" she sobbed. "You did this for me! For me! You did! Oh, Bish! And to think that I believed you capable of writing a novel, even a burlesque one! Oh, Bish, can you forgive me?"
