She shook her head.
"Sometimes," she said, "there is danger in the simplest things one does. I don't understand what it is," she went on, a little wearily, "but I feel that I am losing you, you are slipping away, and day by day Isaac gets more mysterious, and when he comes home sometimes his face is like the face of a wolf. There is a new desire born in him, and I am afraid. I think that if I am left alone here many more nights like this, I shall go mad. I tried to undress, Arnie, but I couldn't. I threw myself down on the bed and I had to bite my handkerchief. I have been trembling. Oh, if you could hear those voices! If you could understand the fears that are nameless, how terrible they are!"
She was shaking all over. He passed his other arm around her and lifted her up.
"Come and sit with me in my room for a little time," he said. "I will carry you back presently."
She kissed him on the forehead.
"Dear Arnold!" she whispered. "For a few minutes, then—not too long. To-night I am afraid. Always I feel that something will happen. Tell me this?"
"What is it, dear?"
"Why should Isaac press me so hard to tell him where you were going to-night? You passed him on the stairs, didn't you?"
Arnold nodded.
"He was with another man," he said, with a little shiver. "Did that man come up to his rooms?"