Blair held up his hand.
"Not a word more!" he said. "Go, now, Lottie. I—I will send for you later."
Lottie hung her head and left them, and for a few minutes Blair sat silent, feeling as if some fiend had dashed the cup of joy from his lips again.
How was he to tell this lovely angel whose image had never left his heart's throne, this lovable woman who clung to him as if to sever from him would be death to her, how could he tell her that, thinking her dead, he had taken another woman as his wife!
He could not then, at that supreme moment, at any rate.
He rose, still with his arm round her.
"Dearest," he said in a whisper. "You must go home—to your own home for the present——"
Margaret started and looked at him, then her face went white, but she said nothing, not one word.
"For the present," he repeated, almost beside himself. "In an hour or two I will come to you. Tell me where?"