“I suppose so. I was clumsy—toward the last. I was worried. About Freeman.”
Gay closed her lips firmly.
“Freeman is my husband,” said Henrietta.
For a full minute Gay said nothing.
“Is that another lie?” she asked then, but her voice was choked.
“I deserve that,” said Henrietta. “No, it is not a lie. It is the full truth. Freeman is my husband. He is also a thief. He stole from Johnnie Alberson. That is why he fled. So, you see, we are a nice couple—a thief and a liar.”
Strangely enough, Lorna put her arm around Henrietta's waist. Gay stopped short. The next moment she was at the side of the road, sunk down upon the grass, her face buried in her arms, sobbing. Lorna went to her, and Henrietta stood before her.
“He is not worth it,” she said, meaning Gay's tears.
“Oh, I know! I know!” Gay wept. “It's not that. I don't know what it is. I did n't like him. I hated him. I knew he was bad. I don't know what's the matter. I'm just so miserable! I'm so wicked; so mean!”
“Don't cry; don't cry, Gay,” Lorna was begging.