"What I have to say will be painful to you," he went on hurriedly. "But it's no worse for you than it is for me. In fact, not so bad, for you must have had some kind of an idea——"
He broke off, seeing from her face that she had even now no notion of what he was driving at.
"I don't understand at all," she said quietly. "Do sit down, Mr. Crichell."
"It's no good beating about the bush," he resumed, still standing. "It's just this. I'm—I'm going to divorce my wife, and Walbridge will be co-respondent."
"Walbridge?" she repeated stupidly, staring at him with what he viciously called to himself, the face of an idiot. "My husband?"
"Yes, your husband—and my wife's lover. Pretty little story, isn't it?" As she was about to speak, he went on, purposely lashing himself, it struck her, into a fury. "I've suspected something for a long time. Haven't you?"
She shook her head. "No." But as she spoke she remembered certain half-forgotten little happenings that might have roused her curiosity had she been more interested in her husband.
"Now don't tell me it isn't true, because it is," he snapped, again interrupting her as she was about to speak.
She was very sorry for him, and looked at him compassionately as he stood there twisting and waving his white hands.
"I'm not going to tell you it isn't true, Mr. Crichell," she answered gently. "I suppose it is, and I'm very, very sorry for you."