“Mr. Ashton!” she exclaimed, indignantly widening the space between them as much as the seat would permit.

“Please!” he begged. “Don’t you understand? I am going away.”

“Going away?” she echoed. 132

“Yes.”

“But––why?”

“Because he is coming.”

“Mr. Blake?”

“Yes. I cannot stay after he––”

“But why not? Has he injured you? Are you afraid of him?”

“No. I’m afraid that you––” Ashton’s voice sank to a whisper––“that you will believe what he––what they will say against me.”