She broke off. Why was she saying it? The perfume of June roses under moonlight, mingling with the fragrance of her hair, was intoxicating. His arm about her tightened. Was she only allowing him to hold her out of pity because of his confession?
"Because," she said, "I think before she knows of your visit it would be better that you should go."
He failed to grasp her logic. "But if I stay, she will never know."
She released herself gently and gazed at him reproachfully. "Never know! But you came in order that she might know."
He was more than ever puzzled. He had come to tell her of her husband. Did she not believe him? She seemed to be accusing him. He remembered how she had claimed, when he had entered, that she could guess what had brought him. "I came solely to see you," he said, speaking slowly. "I was compelled, as I've told you. I give you my word of
honor that my visit wasn't even remotely related to——"
A sharply indrawn breath cut short what he was saying. They turned quickly, moving instinctively apart. Gazing in from the open door, across the pool of lamplight, was Terry.