"Frank," she breathed, pressing her hand to her bosom, "listen to me. He—Mr. Adelstone was—was right. He has done all for—for the best. You—you will beg his pardon."
He stared at her as if he thought that she had taken leave of her senses.
"What! What do you say!" he cried, below his breath. "Are you mad, Stella?"
She put her hand to her brow with a strange, weird smile.
"I wish—I almost think I am. No, Frank, not another word. You must not ask why. I cannot tell you. Only this, that—that Mr. Adelstone has explained, and that—that"—her voice faltered—"we must go back."
"Go back? Not go to Leycester?" he demanded, incredulous and astonished. "Do you know what you are saying?"
She smiled, a smile more bitter than tears.
"Yes, I know. Bear with me, Frank."
"Bear with you? What does she mean? Do you mean to say that you have allowed yourself to be persuaded by this—this hound——?"
"Frank! Frank!"