Turning aside, the girl rested a hand upon the balustrade and gazed blankly off through the night.
"But—I can't help thinking there must be some mistake—some terrible mistake."
"If so, it is theirs—the Shaynons', father and son."
"But they've been bringing such pressure to bear to make me agree to an earlier wedding day—!"
"Not even that shakes my belief in Mrs. Inche's story. As a matter of fact, Bayard offered her half a million if she'd divorce him quietly, without any publicity, in the West."
"And she accepted—?"
"She has refused, believing she stands to gain more by holding on."
"If that is true, how can it be that he has been begging me this very night to marry him within a month?"
"He may have entertained hopes of gaining his end—his freedom—in another way."
"It's—it's inexpressibly horrible!" the girl cried, twisting her hands together.