“Pierce, darling, what has happened?” cried Jenny, as her brother entered the room and sank into a chair. “Oh,” she cried wildly, as she flew to him to throw her arms about his neck and gazed in his ghastly face, “it was for Kate. Oh, Pierce, don’t say she’s dead!”
“Yes,” he said, in a voice full of agony; “dead to me.”
Chapter Sixteen.
“Dead? Dead to you? Pierce, speak to me,” cried Jenny. “What do you mean?”
“What I say. They are a curious mixture of weakness and duplicity.”
“Who are, dear?” said Jenny, with a warm colour taking the place of the pallor which her brother’s words had produced. “Why will you go on talking in riddles?”
“Women. Their soft, quiet ways force you to believe in them, and then comes some sudden enlightening to prove what I say.”
Jenny caught him by the shoulder as he sat in his chair, looking ghastly.