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Mary Everton's eyes were deep wells of truth and sincerity as I talked, but I read in them nothing save the love which matched my own when she gave me her answer. If I had known all that lay behind, I think I should have fallen down and worshiped her. I did not know then how much or how little she had heard of the Agatha Geddis affair.
If he were really Mary Everton's lover, he was certainly going about his love-making most moderately, I concluded. I like to remember that I was loyal to him at this time in spite of the puzzlement.
Throughout the long night hours following Mary Everton's visit I was far enough, I hope, from envying Barrett; far enough, too, from the thought that I might ever venture to ask any good and innocent young woman to step down with me into the abyss of unearned infamy into which I had been flung, largely through the efforts of another woman who was neither good nor innocent.
If I could have had the answer to that question it is conceivable that my one evening as Polly Everton's affianced lover an evening spent in the seventh heaven of ecstasy before the cheerful coal blaze in the cottage sitting-room would have been sadly marred. The End of a Honeymoon Our high-noon wedding was in all respects as quiet and unostentatious as we had planned it.
Though I had been holding back, both for Barrett's sake and because of my own wretched handicap, it soon became apparent that I had gone too far to be able to retreat with honor; that Polly Everton's name had already been coupled with mine in the gossip of the great gold camp; and that if what Barrett had said were true Polly herself had to be considered. So the double life began and continued.
He had a man in his employment who possessed all the ability necessary to write the article, and upon whom, for certain reasons, he soon fixed the origin of the attack. "Have you seen that article in the Gazette?" asked an acquaintance, who came into Everton's office while he sat with the paper referred to still in his hand. "I have," replied Everton, compressing his lips.
I gave my two partners the gist of the conversation with the assayer, briefly and without comment. Gifford oozed profanity; but Barrett laughed and said: "Every little new thing we run up against merely urges us to let out one more notch in the speed of the hurry hoist. Everton's suspicion is an entirely natural one, and for my part, I only hope he and Blackwell will hang on to it.
The man doesn't live who can stand up and tell me that her motives are not always exactly what they ought to be. I know they are!" Barrett was smiling good-naturedly before I got through. "I like your loyalty," said he; adding: "and I shan't quarrel with you over Miss Everton's motives; she is as good as she is pretty; and that is putting it as strong as even you could put it."
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