She faced him standing at the door, striving desperately for self-control. "It may be Saltash," she said, speaking more quietly. "I saw him this morning, and he knows about the concert to-night. Dick—" she caught her breath involuntarily—"Dick, why do you look at me like that?"
He made a curious jerky movement—as if he strove against invisible bonds. "So," he said, "you are expecting him!"
She stiffened at his words. "I have told you I am expecting no one, but that is no reason why Saltash should not come."
For a second he looked at her with something that was near akin to contempt in his eyes, then suddenly an awful flame leapt up in them consuming all beside. He took a swift step forward, and caught her between his hands.
"Juliet!" he said sternly. "Stop this trifling! What are you hiding from me? What is it you were trying to tell me just now?"
She shrank from the fire of his look. "I can't tell you now, Dick. It's impossible. Dick, you are hurting me!"
He spoke between his teeth. "I've got to know! Tell me now!"
Someone was knocking a careless tattoo upon the outer door. Juliet turned her head sharply, but she kept her eyes upon her husband's face.
"No, Dick," she said after a moment, and with the words something of her customary quiet courage came back to her. "I can't—possibly—tell you now. Do this one thing for me—wait till to-night!"
"And then?" he said.