“Berenice, you have been angry with me!”
She sat up, and the lamplight fell upon his face.
“You have been ill,” she cried in a shocked tone.
“It is nothing. I am well. But to-night—I had a shock; I saw you with—Mr. Thorndyke!”
Her eyes met his. The hideous phantom which had been dogging his steps was slain. He was ashamed of that awful but nameless fear.
“It is true. Mr. Thorndyke has offered me an apology, which I am forced to believe sincere. He has asked me to be his wife! I was sorry for him.”
“He is a bad man! He has spoken ill of you! He has already a wife!”
“I am glad of it. I can obey my instincts now, and see him no more. Personally he is distasteful to me! I had an idea he was honest! It is nothing!”
She dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. To her it was altogether a minor matter. Then she looked at him.
“Well!”