“Will you forgive me now,” he said, “if I hurry away? I will come and see you again, and we will talk this over more thoroughly.”
And still John Drage said nothing, but he held out his hand. Matravers pressed the thin fingers between his own.
“You must see Freddy,” he said eagerly. “I promised him that he should come in before you went.”
But Matravers shook his head. There was a pain at his heart like the cutting of a knife.
“I cannot stay another instant,” he declared. “Send Freddy over to my rooms any time. Let him come and have tea with me!”
Then they parted, and Matravers walked through a world of strange shadows to Berenice’s house. Her maid, recognizing him, took him up to her room without ceremony. The door was softly opened and shut. He stood upon the threshold. For a moment everything seemed dark before him.
CHAPTER XVI
Berenice seemed to dwell always in the twilight. At first Matravers thought that the room was empty, and he advanced slowly towards the window. And then he stopped short. Berenice was lying in a crumpled heap on the low couch, almost within touch of his hands. She was lying on her side, her supple figure all doubled up, and the folds of her loose gown flowing around her in wild disorder. Her face was half hidden in her clasped hands.