“No,” she said, “that would not do at all. You must not think because I have been living with Mr. Sabin that I have no other relations or friends. I have a very great many of both, only it was arranged that I should leave them for a while. I can go back at any time; I am altogether my own mistress.”
“Then go back at once,” he begged her feverishly. “I could not bear to think of you living here with this man another hour. Have your things put together now and tell your maid. Let me take you to the station. I want to see you leave this infernal house, and this atmosphere of cheating and lies, when I do!”
Her lips parted into the ghost of a smile.
“I have not found so much to regret in my stay here,” she said softly.
He held out his arms, but she eluded him gently.
“I hope,” he said, “nay, I know that you will never regret it. Never! Tell me what you are going to do now?”
“I shall leave here this afternoon,” she said, “and go straight to some friends in London. Then I shall make new plans, or rather set myself to the remaking of old ones. When I am ready, I will write to you. But remember again—I make no promise!”
He held out his hands.
“But you will write to me?”