She went slowly downstairs. In the lobby she saw the child, who ran to her and took her hand.
‘Papa is in the study. Come.’
And he tried to draw her along with him. She stooped and kissed him on the brow.
‘Wait for me in the drawing-room,’ she ‘said. ‘Is Aunt Margaret there?’
‘Yes,’ said the boy. ‘You will bring papa?’
He bounded from her, and she walked slowly towards the study. The door was closed, and for a moment she paused, faltering, before she opened it; then she passed in, and saw her husband sitting reading by the fire.
He had a newspaper in his hand. At a glance she recognised Lagardère’s journal, the ‘Plain Speaker.’ The room swam round her; she felt as if she was about to faint.
But Forster looked up with a bright smile, and tossed down the journal.
‘Ah, my dear Madeline,’ he said. ‘You see I am home early again; I’m afraid I’m losing all my business habits. But good heavens!’ he continued, noticing her face, ‘how pale you look! Is anything the matter?’
‘Nothing; only—I have a bad headache.’