He wrung our junior's hand without finishing the sentence; too overwrought, indeed, to finish it—and strode from the room.
Mr. Royce held me back for a rapid word of warning.
"I'm glad you're going," he said. "He'll need some one. There's no telling what'll happen. Good luck!"
When we were in the train, with the lights of Jersey City flying past us, I took occasion to examine Curtiss again. He was lying back in the seat with his eyes closed, and the posture made his face seem even lanker and grimmer than it had at first appeared. I saw that I must keep my wits about me. When he awoke to a full realisation of the trick fate had played him, he might, in his desperation——
"But you said Mrs. Lawrence told you she knew why Marcia had run away."
The voice fairly made me jump, it came so suddenly, so unexpectedly.
"She did," I answered, turning to find his dark eyes open and strangely bright. "But of course she was mistaken. She fancied it was something else, or she wouldn't have said what she did."
"What did she say? You've told me, but I've forgotten."
"She said that the marriage wasn't impossible—that the choice should be left to you."