“Oh, no, no!” cried Virginia. “Fanchon, you’re wild—you don’t understand!”
“Oh, I understand!” she retorted bitterly. “You’re one of them. I don’t know why you came here—you’re one of them!”
“I came because you’re ill. You’ll be very ill if you don’t stop.”
“You think I’ll die, n’est-ce-pas?” Her red mouth twisted oddly. “They’d like me to die, so he’d be free. They’re so good—they don’t like divorces!”
“Hush!” said Virginia steadily. “I wouldn’t stay here if you were not so ill, Fanchon, you’re trembling and shaking. Let me get a doctor for you; let me take you out of this wretched place.”
Fanchon laughed again hysterically.
“It’s a fine place, isn’t it? Tiens! The place for Mrs. William Carter. You see I have no money. Mon Dieu, I wouldn’t take a cent of his—I’d starve first!”
“I understand.” Virginia laid her hand gently on her shoulder. “I should feel like that myself. But I’m a woman, Fanchon—let me help you while you’re so ill.”
Something in her touch, her voice, reached the girl. She stopped shivering and looked up into Virginia’s face. She looked up steadily, her own face changing and quivering. Then, suddenly, she sank back in her chair very pale and quiet, her large eyes fixed not on Virginia now, but on space.
“He was the only good man who ever loved me,” she said in a low voice. “I’m not bad—I’ve never been bad—but they thought I was, and I lied to him. I was afraid that if he knew I was divorced he wouldn’t care for me—not in that way—and it would have killed me then.” Her voice broke pitifully. “I—I loved him.”