He looked down at his wife with stupefaction.
“Stop her!” she cried, again. “Go after her and tell her to wait!”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” he said, severely, “to suggest—”
But she didn’t wait for him to finish.
“Then I’m going with her,” she said.
With trembling knees she ascended the stairs, entered her room and began dressing. She hastily put into a little bag a few necessary clothes, her jewel case and her bank books, and came out again, just as Andrée had gone downstairs.
“Gilbert!” she whispered to her husband. “I must stay with her until they are reconciled. It’s a matter of vital importance!”
He was touched; she was so ill, so weak, so terribly upset.
“Very well!” he said. “Bertie will take you to their house. Take care of yourself! You’re not fit to go out.”
She gave him a hasty kiss, and taking Bertie’s arm, left the house. Andrée was already in the street, standing beside the car.