He dropped her hand, and turned away, with his lips compressed and face contracted.
“Mark,” she cried, “why do you not speak? Where did you go that night when you returned?”
He looked at her for a moment, and then turned away again. “I do not know,” he said hoarsely.
“It is not true,” cried Rich. “You must speak now. It was to our house you came.”
“What!”
“I remember now. I heard your voice. You were with my father—in the surgery.”
“Rich,” he said, almost savagely, as he caught her wrist, “think of what you are saying!”
“Rich dear, don’t say that!” cried Janet piteously.
“I know what I am saying,” she said excitedly; and though her face was calm, it was evident that she was suffering terribly.
“No, no,” he cried; “no, dear, you are wrong.”