WHO IS STEPHEN?
As Roger stood looking down at Beverley she opened her eyes.
"Stephen is dead!" she muttered. "Stephen—is dead."
"Who is Stephen?" Roger asked shortly.
"Oh, Roger!" she appealed to him, breaking into sobs. "My poor Stephen! I shall never see him again. All my sacrifices—in vain!"
"Who is Stephen?" Roger repeated.
She held up her arms, without answering his questions. "Roger—comfort me!" she wept.
And for all his life, no matter how many years he may live, Roger Sands will be glad that he did not hold back from Beverley then. Without another word he clasped her tightly, while she cried against his cheek. Both had forgotten that there were guests, that this was the "big night" which all the newspapers were talking about; that already dinner was late, and people wondering; that the "ball" was to begin at ten-thirty, and that the Russian dancers who were to open it, as the great "surprise," would soon be in the house.
When Beverley had sobbed until exhaustion came, she spoke, in a tiny voice, like that of a tired little girl: "Because Stephen is—safe, I can tell you everything now. Will you listen, Roger, until the end, whether you can forgive me or no?"
"Yes," Roger answered. "But just this before you begin! I love you so much, Beverley, that if there's something to forgive it's forgiven already."