"That's—that's right, my darling!" he said. "I knew you'd come! I've driven Stevens at the club half wild about that telegram; but I'll—I'll give him a five-pound note. Leslie——."
"Yes," she murmured.
"I've got the certificate, license, whatever you call it, and we'll be married to-day——."
Her face flushed and the tears blinded her.
"I'm too busy now to tell you how I love you for trusting me, dearest, but I'll tell you after its all over. The snuggest little church! I've got everything read—Where's a cab—Where——."
He stopped and a shudder ran through him, and the expression of his face changed swiftly.
"Leslie!" he cried, in a voice of grief and dread. "Where are you? I have lost you! Lost you; Leslie, come back to me! Oh, God, she has gone, gone forever! Come back to me, dearest, dearest!"
The doctor stepped forward hurriedly with a grave anxiety in his manner; but Leslie motioned him back.
She put her arm round Yorke and laid her face against his—her own scarlet and white by turns—and in a voice inaudible to the rest, whispered:
"I am here, dear Yorke! Don't you know—have you forgotten? It is I, Leslie—your wife!"