"No, because he was ill--had a bad headache--the beginning of a cold. Or else he was pretending. I can't trust him now! But he looked pale and odd, so I nobly left him alone till this morning. Then I went to the study, and asked him to keep his promise about the ring. He pulled open the drawer. There it was on the letter, as I saw it yesterday. That gave me my chance. I said, 'Pavoya has been writing to you. I see her monogram.' And I pretended to read, 'My Best and Dearest Friend', for the first time." "By George!" exclaimed Jack, as Juliet stopped for breath. "By George, indeed!" she echoed. "Pat accused me of being suspicious. I accused him of being untrue. We had a _scene_! I never thought I could say such things to Pat as I said. The way he took them made me worse. He just looked at me in silence, with his mouth shut like a steel trap. I suppose he hates me now. If he hadn't deserved every word I said, _I_ should deserve to be hated for saying them. If he'd _loved_ me, he would have boxed my ears! I half expected he would. But seeing him stand like a graven image, I turned to leave the room. He opened the door for me to go out, and _handed me the ring_." "You took it!" "I had to, or fling it in his face. I went straight off and wrote that letter to you, which I sealed with the ring. Then I sent it back to him by Old Nick. I haven't seen Pat, of course, since he shut the door on me. And I don't know how we are going to behave to each other when we meet next." "You will behave as if nothing had happened, of course," Jack said with decision. "That's your advice?" "Certainly. And nothing _has_ really happened, so far as you know. You have no proof that Claremanagh has broken his word about calling on Pavoya. And you've seen no letter from him to her----" "Someone else saw his seal!" "The most innocent words may have been under it. And you can't blame a man if a woman chooses to address him as her 'dearest friend'. At least you've no right to do so." "Don't you think I have? That's because you're a man, always ready to defend another man. And you don't understand women." "Good heavens, I don't claim to! And I do not defend Claremanagh. I merely say, give him the benefit of the doubt. Only men and women in melodrama refuse to hear any defense from the suspected one. You asked for my advice. There it is, my child, whether it pleases you or not." "Well, if you want me to be as cool and reasonable as you are, you've got to stand by me, and see me through." "I'm neither cool nor reasonable where you're concerned, Juliet. But you know I'll stand by you." "You mean, you'll not go to Long Island? You'll stay in New York, and be our guest?" "I'll not go to Long Island--at present. I'll stay in New York. But I _won't_ be your guest." "You're cruel, Jack! You're selfish!" Juliet cried, as she had often unjustly cried before.