Chapter Thirty Two.
Jenny had not been seated alone many minutes after the carriage had driven off, dwelling excitedly upon her visitor’s words respecting Kate’s disappearance, when the front door was opened softly, and there was a tap on the panel of the room where she sat.
“Who’s there? Come in.”
“Only me,” said a familiar voice, and, hunting whip in hand, Claud Wilton stood smiling in the doorway.
“You!” cried Jenny, with flaming cheeks. “How dare you come here?”
“Because I wanted to see you,” he said. “Just met the mater, and she told me how bad you’d been, and that you talked about dying. I say, you know, none of that nonsense.”
“What is that to you, sir, if I did?”
“Oh, lots,” he said, twirling the lash of his whip as he stood looking at her. “If you were to pop off I should go and hang myself in the stable.”
“Go away from here directly. How dare you come?” cried Jenny, indignantly.
“Because I love you. You made me, and you can’t deny that.”