Mrs. Dennison met his gaze full and straight; the Baron stretched out his hand.
"Ah, forgive me!" he exclaimed.
"There is nothing to forgive," said she.
"I saw; I knew; I have felt it. Now he will go away; he will not lean on you now. I have set him where he can stand alone."
A smile, half scornful and half sad, came on her face.
"You hate me," said the Baron. "But I am right."
"I was—we were never necessary to him," said she. "Ah, Baron, this is no news you give me. I know him better than that."
He raised himself higher still, panting as he rested on his elbow. His head craned forward towards her as he whispered,
"I'm a dying man. You can tell me."
"If you were a dead man——" she burst out passionately. Then she suddenly recovered herself.