“Will you leave me now?”
“It would be safer, perhaps. God bless you, Georgie!”
He was going, when she ran to him and touched him for the first time. I could see her little shoes, frail and delicate, sopped by the frozen slush.
“Your wife!” she said hoarsely. “Is she your accomplice?”
He started and turned round; and, on the instant, his face was like a devil’s.
“Leave her out of this,” he said low and fierce, “if you value your soul. She’s innocent—as innocent as heaven, I tell you. If——”
He broke off—seemed to make a menacing gesture, and again was going. And again she stopped him.
“Not that way!”
He was himself directly.
“Why not? It’s private. It’s the way I came.”