“What’s the matter?” he said, looking at her.
“You frightened me,” she said, in a whisper, her hand to her heart, for the test had been almost beyond her strength.
“What! I frightened you?”
“You know sudden surprises affect me like this,” she said, trying to recover her wits.
“You don’t ask me why I have come,” he said quietly.
“Bad news?” she forced herself to say.
“You might call it that.”
This gave Bowden his opportunity. He rose hastily.
“I hope it’s not serious,” he said glibly. “If you’ll permit me—” He offered his hand. “I know you wish to talk this over alone. Mrs. Garford, I hope your headache will be better to-morrow. It was a shame to miss that last act.”
He had quite recovered himself with the prospect of a flight that providentially opened to him. He bowed a little doubtfully to Garford, but the husband nodded and sat down. Bowden exchanged glances with the wife, slipped on his coat, and took up his hat. The woman looked at him in terror; she saw to the bottom of his soul and comprehended that he was deserting her. Garford, meanwhile, had risen, gone to the table and turned, his arms folded, leaning against its side.