"In a very critical condition; Dr. Arthur says she is liable to have brain fever," he tersely replied.
"Brain fever!" exclaimed his wife, in a startled tone. "Surely, she cannot be as bad as that!"
"Woman, what have you done?" the man demanded, in a hoarse whisper. "How have you dared to plot and carry out the dastardly deed that you have perpetrated this night?"
Anna Goddard's eyes began to blaze defiance.
"That is neither the tone nor the manner you should employ in addressing me, Gerald, as you very well know," she retorted, with colorless lips.
"Have done with your tragic airs, madam," he cried, laying a heavy hand upon her arm. "I have had enough of them. I ask you again, how have you dared to commit this crime?"
"Crime?" she repeated, with a start, but flashing him a glance that made him wince as she shook herself free from his grasp. "You use a harsh term, Gerald; but if you desire a reason for what has occurred to-night, I can give you two."
"Name them," her companion curtly demanded.
"First and foremost, then—to protect myself."
"To protect yourself—from what?"