“I expected you, Mrs Hallam,” he said with a voice full of sympathy; and, as he spoke, he remained standing.
Millicent raised her veil, looked at him with her handsome face contracted by mental pain and with an angry, almost fierce glow in her eyes.
“You expected me?” she said, repeating his words with no particular emphasis or intonation.
“Yes; I thought you would come to an old friend for help and counsel at a time like this.”
A passionate outburst was ready to rush forth, but Millicent restrained it, and said coldly:
“My old friend—my father’s old friend.”
“Yes,” he replied; “I hope a very sincere old friend.”
“Then why is my poor injured husband in prison?” There was a fierce emphasis in the words that made Sir Gordon raise his brows. He looked at her wonderingly, as if he had not expected his visitor to take this line of argument.
Then he pointed again to a chair.
“Will you not take a seat, Mrs Hallam?” he said gently. “You have come to me then for help?”