"Because," she said desperately, "the owner of that coat might trace it to Ormond and—and come down there."
"Where is he?"
She paled and clasped her hands tighter:
"I—I thought—I had every reason to believe[234] that he was in New York. B-but he isn't. He is in St. Augustine!"
"You evidently don't wish to meet him."
"No—oh, no, I don't wish to meet him—ever!"
"Oh. Am I to understand that this—this fellow," he said fiercely, "is following you?"
"I don't know—oh, I really don't know," she said, her blue eyes wide with apprehension. "All I know is that I do not desire to see him—or to have him see me.... He must not see me; it must not be—it shall not be! I—it's a very terrible thing;—I don't know exactly what I'm—I'm fighting against—because it's—it's simply too dreadful——"
Emotion checked her, and for a moment she covered her eyes with her gloved hands, sitting in silence.
"Can't I help you?" he asked gently.