"I believe it."
"On what grounds? Tell me!"
"The word of the lady herself, together with the evidence of his
confusion just now. What more do you need?"
Turning aside, the girl rested a hand upon the balustrade and gazed
blankly off through the night.
"But--I can't help thinking there must be some mistake--some terrible
mistake."
"If so, it is theirs--the Shaynons', father and son."
"But they've been bringing such pressure to bear to make me agree to
an earlier wedding day--!"
"Not even that shakes my belief in Mrs. Inche's story. As a matter of
fact, Bayard offered her half a million if she'd divorce him quietly,
without any publicity, in the West."
"And she accepted--?"
"She has refused, believing she stands to gain more by holding on."
"If that is true, how can it be that he has been begging me this very
night to marry him within a month?"
"He may have entertained hopes of gaining his end--his freedom--in
another way."
"It's--it's inexpressibly horrible!" the girl cried, twisting her
hands together.
"Furthermore," argued the little man, purposefully unresponsive, "he
probably thinks himself forced to seem insistent by the part he's
playing. His father doesn't know of this entanglement; he'd disinherit
Bayard if he did; naturally, Bayard wouldn't dare to seem reluctant to
hasten matters, for fear of rousing the old man's suspicions.
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