“I will not—I daren’t,” cried May; “and, besides, this is my home.”
“And Louis? Am I to tell him where you are?”
“No, no. I tell you he would kill me. I must have time to think. Didn’t you tell me he was going to wait, Claire? Look here, I dare not see him. No, everything is over between us. You must see him, dear.”
“See him?” said Claire.
“Yes, dear, yes. Oh, Claire, Claire!” she cried wildly, going upon her knees to her sister, “pray—pray, save me. Tell Louis I am not married to Frank. Tell him he must go away, and not come back till I write to him.”
“May, how can you be so childish?” cried Claire piteously.
“I am not childish. This is not childish. I know—I know—tell him this, and he will go away.”
“Tell him this?”
“Yes, yes; don’t you understand? He is very stupid; tell him I am dead.”
“May!”