“You stayed away when he was here, I suppose?”
“No! Not always. I was sent for once or twice. She had those heart attacks.”
“Hysteria?”
“Heart attacks. He did not know how to treat or calm her.”
“Poor Gabriel Stanton!”
“Poor Margaret Capel!” he retorted. “I wouldn’t try to write the story if I were you. You misjudge her, I am sure you do. She was delicate-minded.”
“Why did she have him down here at all? She knew the risk she ran. Why did she not wait until the decree was made absolute?” For by now, of course, I knew how the trouble came about.
“She was in love with him.”
“She did not know the meaning of the word. She was philandering with you at the time.” He grew red.
“She was not. I was her doctor.”