"It made me kind of crazy. I felt like tellin' you what I was, lyin' about what I was to Bruce, thinkin' it might drive you away an' I might sometime make him love me. But, after I'd done it, after I got it into words, I knew it was against everything he'd ever taught me, against everything he'd ever been, an' that if you went 't would break his heart. That's why I come back to tell you I lied, to tell you how it is....
"You go to him now; you go before it's too late. I tried to come between you ... an' didn't. You go to him before somethin' does...."
She felt Ann's arm go about her and stifling her sobs she yielded to the pull until her head rested on the other woman's shoulder.
"Oh, Nora, I can't tell you how this makes me feel; I can't. I'll never be able to. There's nothing I can say at all, nothing I can do, even!"
The waitress lifted her face to peer closely at her.
"Just one thing you can do," she said, lowly. "Go to him now. That's what I come back here for--to tell you I lied, so you would go."
Ann straightened and shook her head sharply.
"That's impossible," she said, emphatically. "Impossible."
"Impossible, M's. Lytton?"--wiping her eyes.
"When you were here before you gave the reason--I'm a married woman."
"But that ain't.... Why, do you _love_ your husband?"
She grasped Ann's arm and shook it gently as she put that question in a voice that the tears had made hoarse, and leaned forward to catch the answer. For an interval Ann did not reply, gave no sign that she had heard, and Nora repeated her query with impressive slowness.
"It isn't a question of loving, Nora," she finally said. "I'm his wife; I have a wife's duty to perform."
"But do you love him?" the girl persisted.
"No, I don't any more ..."--sadly, yet without regret.
"An' you'd go back to him, M's. Lytton? You'd go back without lovin' him?"
"Of course. It is my place. He is coming to me soon, stronger, wiser, I hope, and there's a chance that we will find at least a little peace together."
Ann gave a little shudder and braced her shoulders backward.
"Don't be afraid to admit it!" the girl urged, speaking rapidly. "Don't be afraid to tell me. I know what you're thinkin'. You love Bruce Bayard! I know; you can't hide it from me, M's. Lytton."