What was there to do? She must keep faith with Kitty, who had given her this sight of her husband again.
“Forwarded from Lammis,” she said. “It reached me before the doctor’s cable.”
So it was Kitty—Kitty Tynan-who had brought his wife to this new home from which he had been trying so hard to get back to the old home. Kitty, the angel of the house.
“You wrote me a letter which drove me from home,” he said heavily.
“No—no—no,” she protested. “It was not that. I know it was not that. It was my money—it was that which drove you away. You have just said so.”
“You wrote me a hateful letter,” he persisted. “You didn’t want to see me. You sent it to me by your sweet, young brother.”
Her eyes flashed. “My letter did not drive you away. It couldn’t have. You went because you did not love me. It was that and my money, not the letter, not the letter.”
Somehow she had a curious feeling that the very letter which contained her bitter and hateful reproaches might save her yet. The fact that he had not opened it—well, she must see Kitty again. Her husband was in a dark mood. She must wait. She knew that her fortunate moment had passed when the rogue Burlingame appeared. She must wait for another.
“Shall I go now? You want to see that man outside. Shall I go, Shiel?” She was very pale, very quiet, steady and gentle.
“I must hear what that fellow has to say. It is business—important,” he replied. “It may mean anything—everything, or nothing.”