‘What can that have to do with it?’
‘I found it on my bed that same morning when I woke. It could not have been there when I lay down.’
‘Well?’
‘Charley, I believe she laid it there.’
He leaped at me like a tiger. Startled, I jumped to my feet. He laid hold of me by the throat, and griped me with a quivering grasp. Recovering my self-possession, I stood perfectly still, making no effort even to remove his hand, although it was all but choking me. In a moment or two he relaxed his hold, burst into tears, took up his hat, and walked to the door.
‘Charley! Charley! you must not leave me so,’ I cried, starting forwards.
‘To-morrow, Wilfrid; to-morrow,’ he said, and was gone.
He was back before I could think what to do next. Opening the door half way, he said—as if a griping hand had been on his throat—
‘I—I—I—don’t believe it, Wilfrid. You only said you believed it. I don’t. Good night. I’m all right now. Mind, I don’t believe it.’
He, shut the door. Why did I not follow him?