MAGDALEN
Floriot did not recognize her as he entered. She was rising and her head was bowed. He turned slowly with hand still on the knob of the door and their eyes met! Every muscle in his body grew rigid and the pallor of his face, born of his long nights in the chair by his boy's bed, changed slowly to a pasty, sickly white. The woman gazed at him with heaving bosom and hope and dread in her eyes.
"You——!" he choked. Jacqueline timidly took a half step toward him, and clasped her hands.
"Yes—I. I——," she began fearfully, but the sound of her voice galvanized the statue at the door.
"Leave this house!" he commanded sternly and he advanced firmly into the room.
"Louis! I——"
"Leave this house at once!" he interrupted, his voice rising with his anger.
"Listen, Louis, please! I——"
"Go! Do you hear me!" he cried furiously as he stalked past her, opened the door into the hall, and held it for her to pass out. Jacqueline crept toward him looking up with frightened, tear-stained face.
"Yes, yes! I will go, I will go!" she panted hurriedly. "I—I promise I will go right away! But, please, Louis, listen—one moment, please!"