His silence was a confession. He would
have lied but the seal was upon his lips. So the moment passed,
and Tavernake had taken another step forward towards his destiny!
. . .
As he helped her out of the cab, her fingers tightened for a
moment upon his hand. She patted it gently as she passed out
before him into the house, leaving the door open. When he had
paid the cabman and followed, she had disappeared. He looked
into the sitting-room; it was empty. Overhead, he could hear her
footsteps as she ascended to her room.
CHAPTER XIII
AN EVENING CALL
In the morning, when he left for the city, she was not down.
When he came home in the evening, she was gone. Without removing
his hat or overcoat, he took the letter which he found propped up
on the mantelpiece and addressed to him to the window and read
it.
DEAR BROTHER LEONARD,--It wasn't your fault and I don't think it
was mine. If either of us is to blame, it is certainly I, for
though you are such a clever and ambitious young person, you
really know very little indeed of the world,--not so much, I
think, as I do. I am going to stay for a few nights, at any
rate, with one of the girls at the theatre, who I know wants some
one to share her tiny flat with her. Afterwards, I shall see.
Don't throw this letter in the fire and don't think me
ungrateful. I shall never forget what you did for me. How could
I?
I will send you my address as soon as I am sure of it, or you can
always write me to the theatre.
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