"What of Rosalind?"
"Do you by chance know anything of her whereabouts?"
"No!"
"She has disappeared."
Her head bowed, and a sob broke from her bosom.
"Disappeared"—his lips breathed the word foolishly after her, while he looked at her almost stupidly.
Mrs. Marsh's hand dropped with a little nervous fling.
"She has not been at home all night. She left the house apparently between four and five yesterday—I was out; then I came in; then you called.... She has not come home—it is impossible to conceive...."
"Oh, she has slept with some friend," he said, feeling that the world reeled around him.
"No, she has never done that without letting me know.... She would surely have telegraphed me.... It is quite impossible even to imagine what dispensation of God——"