When Noel was very angry he was very concise, and he was now in a very fine anger indeed.
"It is quite true," he said, "that you made no promises about letters. What you promised me was to have nothing further to do with him. When you gave me your word to give him up, it meant just that. You did not give him up. You corresponded with him secretly. I thought you still had a spark of loyalty in you. I counted on that. It was my mistake. If you want to go to the devil, you may."
He picked up his hat. Connie, who had subsided into a chair, gave a wail of dismay, and running to the door put her back against it.
"Noel! What do you mean? You can't go away and leave me like this. I thought—I thought you would be—well, if not exactly pleased, at least reconciled. He is going to marry me. We are both free now. It was wrong of me to write to him. I didn't realize it at the time, but I do now. I am sorry!"
Noel stood looking at her as she leaned against the door. Was she worth making further efforts for? Poor old Connie! She would go to the devil now and no mistake! Those pretty, pale blue eyes and that weak mouth had defeated him.
