This struck me as extraordinary generosity in a woman who loved.
"I—I have something else to ask of you," she said in the piteous beseeching way that made me want to cast myself at her feet.
"Anything," I murmured.
"Mr. Quarles is coming here at five. Please see him and tell him—Oh! tell him anything you like, anything that will keep him from ever trying to see me again."
I nodded. "You had better lose no time in getting out of this," I suggested. "Can you be ready by to-morrow morning?"
"I will start packing now," she said. "It will give me something to do."
How well I understood the hideous blankness that faced her.
"Don't let those women bother you," I said. "Refer them to me."
"They mean well," she said.
"I will answer for Miss Farrell," I said. "She'll be here at nine to-morrow."