hing Bernard out of his house, he had behaved with
admirable self-control. Bernard, however, followed this train of thought
a very short distance. It was odious to him to believe that he could
have appeared to Gordon, however guiltlessly, to have invaded even in
imagination the mystic line of the marital monopoly; not to say that,
moreover, if one came to that, he really cared about as much for poor
little Blanche as for the weather-cock on the nearest steeple. He simply
hurried his preparations for departure, and he told Blanche that he
should have to bid her farewell on the following day. He had found her
in the drawing-room, waiting for dinner. She was expecting company to
dine, and Gordon had not yet come down.

She was sitting in the vague glow of the fire-light, in a wonderful blue
dress, with two little blue feet crossed on the rug and pointed at the
hearth. She received Bernard's announcement with small satisfaction, and
expended a great deal of familiar ridicule on his project of a journey
to California. Then, suddenly getting up and looking at him a moment--

"I know why you are going," she said.

"I am glad to hear my explanations have not been lost."

"Your explanations are all nonsense. You are going for another reason."

"Well," said Bernard, "if you insist upon it, it 's because you are too
sharp with me."

"It 's because of me. So much as that is true." Bernard wondered what
she was going to say--if she were going to be silly enough to allude to
the most impudent of fictions; then, as she stood opening and closing
her blue fan and smiling at him in the fire-light, he felt that she was
silly enough for anything. "It 's because of all the talk--it 's because
of Gordon. You need n't be afraid of Gordon."

"Afraid of him? I don't know what you mean," said Bernard, gravely.

Blanche gave a little laugh.

"You have discovered that people are talking about us--about you and
me. I must say I wonder you care. I don't care, and if it 's because
of Gordon, you might as well know that he does n't care. If he does
n't care, I don't see why I should; and if I don't, I don't see why you
should!"

"You pay too much attention to such insipid drivel in even mentioning
it."

"Well, if I have the credit of saying what I should n't--to you or
to any one else--I don't see why I should n't have the advantage too.
Gordon does n't care--he does n't care what I do or say. He does n't
care a pin for me!"

She spoke