Robert ignored the proffered hand. He reached for his hat.
“I feel like a beastly interloper,” he growled huskily. “Accept my apologies, Margaret, and you, Miss Layton. I will call in the morning. Mr. Brett, if you still hold to your offer, I will await you at the lodge, or any other place you care to name.”
With blazing eyes, and mouth firmly set, he endeavoured to reach the open window. Brett barred his way.
“Sit down, man,” he said sternly. “Why are you such a fool as to resist the kindness offered to you? I tried to make matters easy for you. Now I must speak plainly. You are weak with hunger.”
He had seen what the others had missed. The colour in Robert’s face was due to exposure, but he was otherwise drawn and haggard. His clothes were shabby. He had walked from Stowmarket because he could not afford to hire any means of conveyance.
The abject confession compelled by Brett’s words was too much for him. He again collapsed into a chair and covered his face with his hands.
[Chapter XVI]
The Cousins
Brett was the only person present who kept his senses. Margaret was too shocked, the lovers too amazed, to speak coherently.