“Francis won’t. He’s stupid. He won’t put two and two together. Tell him—anything. Say I’ve repented on account of Edna. Only get rid of him, for God’s sake!”
“Hush, Andrée!”
“Oh, I’m so ashamed and wretched! Why did this horrible thing happen! I wouldn’t believe it at first! It was too ridiculous and shameful! I won’t have Francis know. I’ll go away somewhere.”
Claudine rose.
“You’ll lie here quietly, won’t you?” she asked.
Andrée assured her that she would, and closing the door after her, Claudine descended the stairs.
Of all the painful and awkward tasks she had yet had to do for her child, this was the worst. She couldn’t suppress a wry little smile. She who so loved peace and dignity, who was so constitutionally averse to plain speaking!
Mr. Malloy was in the drawing-room, walking about. He stared a little at the sight of Claudine.
“Good-evening!” he said.
“Good-evening!” Claudine answered, brightly.