While her husband stood there, his head bowed, just inside the door, she began to speak again in rambling and broken sentences.
“William! I’m not bad—I’ve never been bad—non, non! You can’t threaten me—I won’t stand it, I’ll call my husband—William, William!”
She sat up in bed, and tears ran down her cheeks. She seemed to be looking at Virginia, who still stood in the door.
“I didn’t do wrong—I loved him. You shan’t take him away—I love him—William!”
William listened, and it seemed to him as if his own heart stopped beating. The soft, appealing voice, and the white, pitiful face! He felt a sudden sensation of suffocation.
“Guillaume de mon cœur! He’ll come,” cried Fanchon softly.
William took a quick step forward, hesitated, and then went across the room. He knelt beside the bed and caught the trembling, groping little hands in his and held them.
Virginia turned away.
She went quietly out of the room and shut the door behind her.