“Is it dreadful?”
“Too dreadful to tell you, dearest,” he replied sadly.
“Then I won’t know,” she said, with a sob. “Oh, my poor, darling Myra! She will die of a broken heart, I know, I know.”
Guest tried to comfort her, and she grew more calm.
“It was good and honest of you to come straight to me, to tell me, Percy,” she said, submitting to his embraces; and Guest felt horribly guilty, and wished he had not come. “It is dreadful, you say?”
“Terrible, little one,” he whispered.
“Too terrible for me to know? Then I must not hear it, I suppose?”
“No.”
“But you know it, Percy,” she said piteously; “it’s too terrible, then, for you.”
“I have been trying hard to find out the cause of his conduct.”