“I suppose not.” Cherokee felt her voice trembling, she was almost certain he had gone; there was a dreariness about the place, an utter loneliness, that made her feel that she would not hear his voice that morning.
Robert touched the bell, and when the servant answered, he bade her:
“Tell Mr. Latham breakfast is ready.”
“Mr. Latham went away in the night,” the servant answered. “I suppose he won’t be back soon, as he took a grip with him.”
In sudden temper Robert cried: “You don’t mean it, has he gone home?”
“I don’t know, sir, he went towards the station about a half hour before the New York train was due.”
“That will do, leave us,” he ordered the maid.
“Now, Cherokee, tell me why Marrion has left me?”
“Mr. Latham may prefer to make his own excuse,” she answered, quietly.
“Never mind that assumed dignity; I know the reason as well as you could tell me. This letter I found on the studio floor gives the villain away,” and thrusting it at her, he demanded: “Read it aloud.”