"I was told to ask for Mrs. Warren. Where is she?"
"Who told you to ask for her?"
"That does not matter." Then it suddenly occurred to her that Janet might be Mrs. Warren, and the thought seemed to freeze the blood in her veins. She came forward and, bending over her, said in a low voice—
"You are not Mrs. Warren, are you? Tell me you are not, Janet, for pity's sake."
She made no reply, but sobbed convulsively, her body shook, and she shivered painfully.
"Are you Mrs. Warren?" asked Irene again, in a tone which demanded an answer.
"Yes," faintly sobbed Janet.
"And Mr. Warren is my husband. Janet, how could you do me such a bitter wrong? I have always been your friend," said Irene.
Despite the trouble and confusion she was in, Janet saw there was a misunderstanding, and she must do all in her power to make the best of things.
"I did not wrong you," said Janet. "I ran away with Mr. Courtly before you were married to him. If there be any wrong, you did it to me by taking the place I ought to have occupied."