"I thought you were abroad," said Mildred.
"So I was—until yesterday. I came back because my men had found you. And I'm here because I venture to hope that you have had enough of this foolish escapade. I hope we can come to an understanding. I've lost my taste for wandering about. I wish to settle down—to have a home and to stay in it. By that I mean, of course, two or three—or possibly four—houses, according to the season." Mildred sent her glance darting about. The little general saw and began to talk more rapidly. "I've given considerable thought to our—our misunderstanding. I feel that I gave too much importance to your—your— I did not take your youth and inexperience of the world and of married life sufficiently into account. Also the first Mrs. Siddall was not a lady—nor the second. A lady, a young lady, was a new experience to me. I am a generous man. So I say frankly that I ought to have been more patient."
"You said you would never see me again until I came to you," said Mildred. As he was not looking at her, she watched his face. She now saw a change—behind the mask. But he went on in an unchanged voice:
"Were you aware that Mrs. Baird is about to sue her husband for a separation—not for a divorce but for a separation—and name you?"
Mildred dropped limply back in her chair.
"That means scandal," continued Siddall, "scandal touching my name—my honor. I may say, I do not believe what Mrs. Baird charges. My men have had you under observation for several weeks. Also, Mrs. Brindley is, I learn, a woman of the highest character. But the thing looks bad—you hiding from your husband, living under an assumed name, receiving the visits of a former admirer."
"You are mistaken," said Mildred. "Mrs. Baird would not bring such a false, wicked charge."
"You are innocent, my dear," said the general.
"You don't realize how your conduct looks. She intends to charge that her husband has been supporting you."
Mildred, quivering, started up, sank weakly back again.