"We were together almost every evening."

"Billy?" he demanded, with a savageness that startled her.

"Yes, of course, Billy. We were with each other so much . . . If I had
only known . . . There was no one to tell me . . . I was so young--"

Her lips parted as though to speak further, and she regarded him anxiously.

"The scoundrel!"

With the explosion Ned Bashford was on his feet, no longer a tired Greek,
but a violently angry young man.

"Billy is not a scoundrel; he is a good man," Loretta defended, with a
firmness that surprised Bashford.

"I suppose you'll be telling me next that it was all your fault," he said
sarcastically.

She nodded.

"What?" he shouted.

"It was all my fault," she said steadily. "I should never have let him. I
was to blame."

Bashford ceased from his pacing up and down, and when he spoke, his voice
was resigned.