As soon as she saw Bram, she stopped on her way through.
“No,” she said quickly to the clerk who was leading her through to the private office of Mr. Cornthwaite, “it is Mr. Elshaw I want to see. Please, can I speak to you?”
Bram felt the heavy weight settling at once on his heart again. He followed her in silence into the office. Mr. Cornthwaite had not yet arrived.
As soon as the door was shut, and they were alone, she broke out in a tremulous voice, not free from pettishness—
“Mr. Elshaw, I wanted to see you because I feel sure you will not deceive me. And all the rest try to. Mr. and Mrs. Cornthwaite, and my sister-in-law, and my own people, and everybody. You live near Duke’s Farm? Tell me, is Miss Claire Biron at home with her father, or—or has she gone away?”
“I believe, Mrs. Christian, she has gone away.”
The young wife did not cry; she frowned.
“I knew it!” she said sharply. “They pretended they did not know; but I knew it, I felt sure of it. Mr. Elshaw, she has gone away with my husband!”
“Oh, but how can you be sure? How——”