Then, reaching Mabin’s astonished ears quite distinctly, as she stood, anxious, bewildered, at a little distance, came these words in Mrs. Dale’s voice:
“Oh, have you forgiven me? Will you ever forgive me, Geoffrey! Geoffrey!”
Mabin swung round on her feet and all but fell into Rudolph’s arms.
“Then—Mr. Banks—is her husband!” she gasped, in such a whirl of joyous excitement that she did not notice how unduly gracious to Rudolph her excitement was making her.
“Yes. Didn’t you guess?”
“N-n-no. Did you?”
“Yes.”
“She didn’t tell you then?”
“No. She didn’t know herself, I am sure. But she began to wonder and to suspect. And yet she didn’t dare, not knowing, I suppose, poor little woman, how he felt toward her, to meet him. So she did the worst thing possible, and sent for his mother. And no doubt the old woman made more mischief, told her Sir Geoffrey would never forgive her, and all that. So the little woman went off her head very nearly. And goodness knows what would have happened if we hadn’t gone after her so soon.”
Mabin wrenched herself away from Rudolph, who had held one arm round her while he spoke.