He caught a look from the trembling woman, and he was puzzled by it. There seemed disappointment and appeal in her eyes. Instantly Merry wondered what he could say to shield her. It seemed strange that she did not faint or go into hysterics at the sight of her husband, but still there was an expression of terror on her face that made Frank pity her.
“Poor, weak thing!” thought Merry. “There is no telling what may be the result of this for her.”
Then he swiftly said:
“The lady was pleased with my play and my acting. She came here to tell me so. It is possible she has contemplated becoming an actress herself. She may have come to me for that reason. If so, I advise her to give up all thoughts of going on the stage.”
It was lame enough, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances without lying direct. Frank hated a liar, and yet he realized there were times when a man’s gallantry to a woman would force him to deviate from the direct truth. Such a “deviation” did not seem like a genuine lie.
“Bah!” cried the man, scornfully. “Don’t think you can make me believe such rot as that! I know better!”
“You are at liberty to believe it or not, just as you like, sir,” said Merry. “But I have stood quite enough nonsense.”
“Oh, you have? And you enticed my wife here to meet you!”
“I did nothing of the kind, sir. Your wife came here entirely of her own accord, without enticement of any kind from me.”
“Oh, I know better! You can’t make me believe it was because she was interested in your play. She’ll not dare say that. Tell the truth woman—why did you come here?”