Cleone collapsed on to the couch.
"I'll not see him! I—oh, I must go home at once! I must, I must! Everything is all my fault! I ought never to have—sent him away! And now—and now he despises me!"
"Who says so?"
"I—how could he do else? Don't—don't you realise how dreadful I have been? And—and his face—when—when he—heard everything! He'll never never believe—the truth!"
"What matters it?" asked my lady carelessly. "Since you do not love him—"
"Oh, I do, I do, I do!" wept Cleone.
François admitted Sir Maurice. His round face was perturbed. It cleared somewhat at the sight of Sir Maurice.
"Ah, m'sieur, entrez donc! M'sieur Philippe he is like one mad!—He rage, he go up and down the room like a caged beast! It is a woman, without doubt it is a woman! I have known it depuis longtemps! Something terrible has happened! M'sieur is hors de lui-même!"
Sir Maurice laughed.