"I shall be glad to see you at the Fairmont Hotel, when I get there." She
was almost too frankly cordial suddenly. The tone would have been perfect
if the words had been spoken in New Orleans, before a thousand things had
happened. But they had passed that stage now--for good or ill.
Then they finished shaking hands, and a few minutes later Nick left her
with Falconer and Sonia Dobieski. The instant he had gone, Angela would
have given a good deal to call him back, although she was sure she had
done only her duty to herself and him.
Her reasons for the great change were not mysterious at all. They were
very clear, and seemed to her very virtuous, very praiseworthy--up to the
last minute. Then she thought that she was a prig, and a wretch, and
several other things which she would have been furious to be thought by
anybody else. She had wanted Nick to realize--that is, she had felt it her
duty to make him realize--that things could not go on as they were, after
last night. She had been incredibly silly in the Mission church. All night
long she had scolded herself for the way she had "behaved" and let the
"forest creature" behave--holding her hand, and sitting as close to her on
the gallery stairs as if they were engaged in a desperate ballroom
flirtation.
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