"
"Don't you want a job as a literary critic Our Special Reviewer, Miss Io
Wel--Mrs. Delavan Eyre," he concluded, in a tone from which the raillery
had flattened out.
At that bald betrayal, Io's color waned slightly. She lifted her
water-glass and sipped at it. When she spoke again it was as if an inner
scene had been shifted.
"What did you come to New York for?"
"Success."
"As in all the fables. And you've found it. It was almost too easy,
wasn't it?"
"Indeed, not. It was touch and go."
"Would you have come but for me?"
He stared at her, considering, wondering.
"Remember," she adjured him; "success was my prescription. Be flattering
for once. Let me think that I'm responsible for the miracle."
"Perhaps. I couldn't stay out there--afterward. The loneliness...."
"I didn't want to leave you loneliness," she burst out passionately
under her breath. "I wanted to leave you memory and ambition and the
determination to succeed."
"For what?"
"Oh, no; no!" She answered the harsh thought subtending his query. "Not
for myself. Not for any pride. I'm not cheap, Ban."
"No; you're not cheap."
"I would have kept my distance.... It was quite true what I said to you
about Betty Raleigh. It was not success alone that I wanted for you; I
wanted happiness, too.
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