“Then you will help me, Claire?”
“Help you!” said Claire reproachfully. “Did I spare my poor reputation for your sake?”
“Oh, don’t talk of that now, only tell me, what shall I do?”
“You must come with me.”
“With you, dear? Where?”
“Home, to your father’s roof; and we must tell him all. He will protect you.”
“Come—home—tell poor papa? No—no—no, I cannot—I dare not.”
“You must, May. It were a shame and disgrace to stay here, now that you know your husband is alive.”
“My first husband, Claire dear,” said May pitifully.
“Oh, hush, May; you’ll drive me mad. There, go and dress yourself, and come home.”