“Then,” he raged as he started up, “I am right. You love some one else. Who is it? I will know.”
“Mr Bayle!”
There was a calm queenly dignity in her look and words that checked his rage; and she saw it as he sank into the nearest chair, his face bent down upon his hands, and his shoulders heaving with the emotion that escaped now and then in a hoarse sob.
“Poor boy!” she said to herself as the indignation he had roused gave way to pity.
“Christie Bayle,” she said aloud, as she approached him once more, and laid her hand upon his shoulder.
“Don’t touch me,” he cried hoarsely as he sprang up; and she started back, half frightened at his wild, haggard face. “I might have known,” he panted. “Heaven forgive you! Good-bye—good-bye for ever!” Before Millicent could speak he had reached the door, and the next minute she heard his hurried steps as he went down the street.