Anne leant towards her. “You haven’t told Harry?”
She shook her head.
“Then don’t.”
Madge stared at her incredulously. “But—but look at me!” she stammered. “He’ll see. He’d guess, even if I don’t tell him. I can’t stop crying. I can’t—help it.”
While she spoke the tears were running down her cheeks.
“Yes, you can. You can pull yourself together. He expects to find you ill, but you can meet him with a bright face—for his sake.”
“For his sake?” repeated Madge.
“Yes. Think of him a little, my dear, and forget yourself.”
“You mean he would never forgive me? Never take me back?”
“On the contrary, I know he would. He loves you. You would never hear a word of reproach from his lips. Your husband is a fine man, Madge, and a generous one—and a gentleman.”