"And when you heard that Cecily had not returned home that night, you believed that she had left her husband for ever?
"Yes."
Mallard drew hack a little, and his voice softened.
"Forgive me for losing sight of civility. Knowing this, it was perhaps natural that you should inform your brother of it. You took it for granted that Cecily—however unwise it was of her—had come to tell me of her resolve to leave home, and that I, as her old friend, had seen her safely to the place where she had taken refuge?"
He uttered this with a peculiar emphasis, gazing steadily into her face. Miriam dropped her eyes, and made no reply.
"You represented it to your brother in this light?" he continued, in the same tone.
She forced herself to look at him; there was awed wonder on her face.
"There is no need to answer in words. I see that I have understood you. But of course you soon learnt that you had been in part mistaken. Cecily had no intention of leaving her husband, from the first."
Miriam breathed with difficulty. He motioned to her to sit down, but she gave no heed.
"Then why did she come to you?" fell from her lips.