"Luckily she took the sad news very calmly," Cyril could not refrain from remarking. Really, Guy was intolerable and he longed with a primitive longing to punch his head. But he had to control himself. Guy was capable of being nasty, if not handled carefully. So he hastily continued:
"How can you undeceive her on one point without explaining the whole situation to her?"
"I—" began Guy, "I—" He paused.
"Exactly. Even you have no solution to offer. Even you have to acknowledge that the relief of knowing that she is not my wife might be offset by learning not only that we are quite in the dark as to who she is, but that at any moment she may be arrested on a charge of murder."
"I don't know what to do!" murmured Guy helplessly.
"Do nothing for the present."
"Nothing!" exclaimed Guy. "Nothing! And leave you to insinuate yourself into her—affections! She must be told the truth some day, but by that time she may have grown to—to—love you." Guy gulped painfully over the word. "You are a married man. That fact evidently seems 'too trifling' to be considered, but I fancy she will not regard it as casually as you do."
"This is absurd," began Cyril, but Guy intercepted him.
"You feel free to do as you please because you expect to get a divorce, but you have not got it yet, remember, and in the meantime your wife may bring a countersuit, naming Miss—Mrs. Thompkins as corespondent."
This suggestion staggered Cyril for a moment.