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Riatt was a noble fellow only, the noblest sometimes forgot these simple, practical details. The next day Riatt paid his bill at the hotel and went away without leaving an address. Few of us have driven past rows of suburban cottages, or through streets lined by city flats, without considering how easy it would be to sink one's identity and become part of a new unknown life.
There was no country expedition for Riatt that day. He rushed down-town, leaving a short message for Christine, and by night he knew the worst, knew that the liabilities of the firm far exceeded any possible assets, knew positively that the comfortable sum he had intended to preserve for himself had been swept away, knew that he now really had to begin life over.
"I wonder," she answered thoughtfully, "which in the end would deceive him most to make him think it was real or fake?" "You blood-curdling woman," said Riatt. "I am not engaged to you." "Oh, yes, you are until March first." "I am pretending to be until March first." She leant against the banisters, and regarded him critically.
You think no one will believe that he ever did propose unless I accept him. I think you're perfectly right." "They won't and I don't," said Nancy, and moved rapidly to the door. "One moment, Mrs. Almar," said Riatt, firmly. "You happen to be mistaken. I did very definitely ask Miss Fenimer to marry me not ten minutes ago." "And do you renew that request?" said Christine. "I do."
He went on: "If you and I are really to be married " "If, my dear Max! What could be more certain?" "Since, then, we are to be married, you must tell me exactly what has taken place between you and Linburne." "With pleasure. Won't you sit down?" She pointed to a chair near her own, but Riatt remained standing. "Shall we have tea first?" "We'll have the story." "Oh, it's not much of a story.
He went straight to the Fenimers' house not indeed expecting to find Christine at home at that hour, but resolved to await her return. The young man at the door, who had known Riatt before, appeared confused, but was decided. Miss Fenimer, he insisted, was out. Glancing past him Riatt saw a hat and stick on the hall table. He had no doubt as to their owner.
Wickham, feeling very much left out and desirous of showing how well accustomed he was to the casual manners of polite society, consoled himself with an evening paper. Laura Ussher led Riatt to a comfortable corner out of earshot of the bridge-table. "Now do tell me, Max," she said, "what you think of them all."
He did not even feel annoyed at his cousin's suggestion that he did not know his way about the world. He knew it rather better than she did, he fancied. And having so disposed of his mail, he took up the evening paper which lay beneath it, and read the first headline: Mrs. Lee Linburne to seek divorce: Wife of well-known multimillionaire now at Reno As he read this a blind rage swept over Riatt.
Yet oddly enough, it came before his eyes in a more vivid picture than many a scene he had actually witnessed. A few minutes later he went to the club and looked up the literary weekly of which she had spoken. There was no sonnet in it, but the issue of the next week contained it. Riatt read it with an emotion he could not mistake. It brought Christine like a visible presence before him.
"Lost," she repeated, and leaning over she laid one polished finger tip on the bell. "When the man comes, tell him to get you ready for that early train." There was complete silence between them until the footman appeared and Riatt had given the necessary orders. "I wonder," he said when they were again alone, "whether I shall be angry at you for this advice, or grateful.
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