“I wonder Percy allowed you to come alone, looking like that.”
“I came because I promised,” she said. “You made me think, in some mysterious way, it would be a good thing for you. But after what you said about Mary, I want this to be distinctly understood: you are not to come and see me any more. Nothing in the world I should loathe so much as to be the cause of any trouble.”
“Oh, my dear, but that you never could,” he answered quickly.
“I hope not, and I’m not going to risk it. You chose your life, Nigel, and you have every reason to be happy.”
“Have I? You don’t know.”
“Think of your children. I haven’t got that pleasure, and yet I’m happy.”
“Are you madly in love with Percy?” he asked, with a smile.
“Yes, I am,” she answered.
At this moment a small crowd of people came in at the door. Mary, who was with them, looked hurriedly round the room, and seeing Bertha and Nigel in the corner, called him, taking no notice of her.
Bertha half rose, intending to go and shake hands with her, and Nigel quickly went to meet her, but Bertha paused, thinking Mary looked strange. She was very pale, and the white dress she wore made her look paler against her dull red hair. She wore a tiara, which seemed a little crooked, and her hair was disarranged. She was pale and trembling, but spoke in a loud voice that Bertha could hear. Within two yards of her, she said to Nigel, gesticulating with a feather fan: