Nick had seated himself at a little distance from her, but shortly she beckoned him to a seat beside her on the sofa.
“I don’t think I can stand this suspense,” she said. “It is all I can do to keep from fainting.”
And no sooner had she said this than she reeled over, falling completely into Nick’s arms.
At that very moment, a man whose face was blazing with anger, rushed into the room, crying:
“So, I have tracked you at last. I have you with your paramour, in fact. You wretch!”
To all appearances the woman had fainted dead away and did not hear the angry words.
Nick lifted her up and laid her on the sofa where she lay as he put her, and stood up.
“Who are you?” asked Nick.
“Who am I?” repeated the other. “The deceived husband.”
“Is your name Ansel?”