Nan remained silent.  Neither their praise nor blame would have affected her one iota at the moment.  All that mattered was whether, without in the least intending to do it, she had cut the cords which bound her so irrevocably.  Was it conceivable that Roger’s pride would be so stung by her action in running away from Trenby Hall during his absence that he would never wish to see her again—­far less make her his wife?

She had never contemplated the matter from that angle.  But now, as Ralph put it before her, she realised that the attitude he indicated might reasonably be that of most men in similar circumstances.

Her heart beat deliriously at the very thought.  If release came this way—­by Roger’s own decision—­she would be free to take it!  The price of the blunder she had made when she pledged herself to him—­a price which was so much heavier than she could possibly have imagined—­would be remitted.

And from the depths of her soul a fervent, disjointed prayer went up to heaven: 

“God, God, please don’t let him forgive me—­don’t let him ever forgive me!”

CHAPTER XXV

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

Nan was rather silent as the Fentons’ big car purred its way through the crowded streets towards Westminster.  For the moment the possible consequences of her flight from Trenby Hall had been thrust aside into a corner of her mind and her thoughts had slipped back to that last meeting with Maryon, when she had shown him so unmistakably that she, at least, had ceased to care.

She had hated him at the moment, rejoicing to be free from the strange, perverse attraction he held for her.  But, viewed through the softening mists of memory, a certain romance and charm seemed to cling about those days when she had hovered on the border-line of love for him, and her heart beat a little faster at the thought of meeting him again.

Ralph Fenton had only a vague knowledge of the affair, but he dimly recollected that there had been something—­a passing flirtation, he fancied—­between Maryon and Nan in bygone days, and he proceeded to chaff her gently on the subject as they drove to the studio.

“Poor old Rooke will get a shock, Nan, when we dump you on to him this afternoon,” he said.  “He won’t be anticipating the arrival of an old flame.”

She flushed a little, and Ralph continued teasingly: 

“You’ll really have to be rather nice to him!  He’s paid pretty dearly for his foolishness in bartering love for filthy lucre.”

Penelope frowned at her husband, much as one endeavours to frown down the observations of an enfant terrible.

“Don’t be such an idiot, Ralph,” she said severely.

He grinned delightedly.

“Old fires die hard, Penny.  Do you think it is quite right of us to introduce Nan on the scene again?  She’s forbidden fruit now, remember.”