“Come, Ethel,” she whispered hoarsely.
Drake, too, rose to accompany them, but she waved him back.
“I wish to go alone with my sister. Stay here,” she gasped, and he obeyed her.
The car was outside and Lady Mildred entered and threw herself back against the cushions.
“Tell him—to drive—home quickly,” she said to her sister, and the words were uttered with great difficulty.
The car started off and Lady Ethel drew down the blinds, for her sister was crying piteously, and tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“Perhaps it is untrue,” Lady Ethel whispered.
“But the disgrace of it. I hate him. I will never willingly see John again,” Lady Mildred cried vehemently.
When she reached home she went at once to her room, and threw herself on the bed, while great sobs shook her. Although she knew it not, the wound was to her pride—that the man she loved, the man whose wife she was, should have his name coupled with a native woman; and a great anger against him mastered her. Honestly she believed that an end had come to her love, and now she almost hoped that he would remain in prison. At last her sobs ceased and she formed a determination as she bathed her face. Her maid was summoned and received orders to pack at once for a long visit.
Lady Ethel came in and gave a cry of surprise when she saw the preparations that were being made.