CONFIDENCE
"And you didn't like that?"
"I liked it immensely—for myself! But I didn't like it for Gordon; and I must do myself the justice to say that I thought more of him than of myself."
"You were an excellent friend," said Angela simply.
"I believe I was. And I am still," Bernard added. She shook her head sadly.
"Poor Mr. Wright!"
"He is a dear good fellow," said Bernard.
"Thoroughly good, and dear, doubtless, to his wife, the affectionate Blanche."
"You don't like him—you don't like her," said Bernard.
"Those are two very different matters. I am very sorry for Mr. Wright."
"You needn't be that. He is doing very well."
"So you have already informed me. But I am sorry for him, all the same."
"That doesn't answer my question," Bernard exclaimed, with a certain irritation. "What part were you playing?"
"What part do you think?"
"Haven't I told you I gave it up long ago?"
Angela stood with her back to the fire, looking at him; her hands were locked behind her.
"Did it ever strike you that my position at Baden was a charming one?—knowing that I had been handed over to you to be put under the microscope—like an insect with a pin stuck through it!"
"How in the world did you know it? I thought we were particularly careful."
"How can a woman help knowing such a thing? She guesses it—she discovers it by instinct; especially if she be a proud woman."
"Ah," said Bernard, "if pride is a source of information, you must be a prodigy of knowledge!"
195
