Then a suspicion of the truth flashed across his mind like the zigzag glimmer of distant lightning, and he shrank from its lurid gleam.
"Eva," he said, "I will go to Bertie—"
"To Bertie?" she shrieked. "Is he here?"
"Yes."
"He! here! Oh, I had never thought of that. I fancied he was away, far away—dead perhaps. I did not care what had become of him. Great God! Here! Frank, I implore you, Frank, leave him; do not go near him."
"But, Eva, I must ask him."
"No, Frank—oh Frank, for God's sake do not go. I am afraid—afraid. Do not go."
He soothed her gently with a soft, sad smile which just lifted his yellow moustache; with grave fondness in his honest eyes; he soothed and petted her very gently, to reassure her.
"Do not be afraid, my darling. I will be quite calm. But still I must ask, don't you see? Wait for me here; I will return in the evening."
"Can you really be calm? Oh, you had better not go—"