"I—don't know," she stammered, "—he must never think that I am in love with Jim..... It would be—dreadful—terrible——"
She sat up, covering her face with both hands:
"Don't ask me! Don't talk about it! There are things I can't tell you—things I can't do, no matter what happens to me—no matter whether I am unhappy—whether Jim is——"
"Don't cry, darling. I didn't mean to hurt you——"
"Oh, Helen! Helen! There's something that happened which I can't ever forget. It terrifies me. There's no way out of this marriage for me—there's no way! No way!" she repeated desolately.... "And I'm so deeply in love—so deeply—deeply——"
She flung herself on her face and buried her head in her arms.
"Just let me alone," she sobbed. "I can't talk about it. I—I'm glad you're happy, dear. But please go out, now!"
Helen rose and stood for a moment looking down at the slender figure in its jewelled kimono and its tumbled splendour of chestnut hair. Then she went out very quietly.
On the porch her audacious young man and Cleland were smoking and consulting time-tables, and she gave the former a swift glance which questioned his intentions. He seemed to comprehend, for he said:
"It's Jim. He's been talking to Oswald on the long distance wire, and he's going down to town to see the model that Oswald has made."