She shuddered and caught her breath.
"Austin Am——" she said, then stopped and looked up at him in sudden terror.
"Austin!" he exclaimed. "You wrote to Austin, and he——Oh, come, Lottie; that can't be true! But why didn't you write to me?"
"To you?" she breathed; "to you? Oh, Blair, Blair; if you only knew, you'd kill me where I stand!"
"Nonsense!" he said with gentle reproof. "Don't be silly, Lottie. Look here, you are weak and upset, and not in a fit state to tell me your story. Come to the palace, where I live, to-morrow, and let me hear all about it. Here is the address," and he tore a page from his pocketbook and wrote on it. "There it is. Now, mind you come; I shall be in all the morning—-" Then he stopped, for it suddenly flashed upon him that probably he should be where Lottie could not follow him. "Stay!" he said; "tell me where to find you, and I will come to-morrow—if possible."
"No!" she said with a shudder; "I will not! Go on and leave me, now."
"No, I won't," he said, and his voice sounded like the old Blair's in its hearty good-nature; "I shall stay here till you do tell me; and I warn you that we are keeping my wife up——"
She started and sprung back.
"Your wife!" she gasped. "Has she—has she come back?"
Blair turned pale, then forced a smile.