She kept her suspicions to herself, however, resolving to await further developments.
It was after six o’clock when Geoffrey returned. Gladys was watching for him, at one end of the veranda, and sprang from the chair to go to meet him, as he came up the steps and then stopped short as she caught sight of his face.
It was as colorless as marble, and there was a look in his eye that actually made her tremble.
He did not speak, or even smile, as he came up to her, but quietly drew her hand through his arm, led her within the house, and to a small reception-room, carefully shutting the door behind them.
Then he turned again and faced her.
“Gladys,” he said, in a hollow, unnatural tone, “it is as I feared——”
“Geoffrey!” she cried, in a shocked voice, all her own bright color fading.
“The worst is true,” he concluded, not heeding her interruption.
“Have you seen him?—did he tell you so?” she asked.
“No, I have not seen him.”