She put on her hat and coat without a word, and she heard him go out into the hall and into the street and send a boy for a taxi.
When he came back she was standing apathetically by the table, looking round the room which she was never to see again.
She hated him because he was tearing her away from the only home she knew—hated him because her mother had hated him; the knowledge had quite killed the first immature affection she had felt for him, quite wiped out all the romance.
The Beggar Man stood for a moment in the doorway, looking at her, and there was a great longing in his heart to try and comfort her, to try and drive that look of desolation from her childish face, but he knew it was no moment for wavering.
"Are you ready?" he asked, and his pity made his voice harsh.
"Yes."
She followed him out of the house without another word or backward glance, but her heart felt as if it were breaking. She kept telling herself that this was her punishment for having deceived her mother. She wished she could fall down dead, as her mother had done.
Forrester only spoke to her once during the drive to his rooms, and that was when he leaned forward and forced her wedding ring back to her third finger.
"Don't you ever dare to take it off again," he said.
There was a little smile in his eyes as he spoke, but she only heard the masterfulness of his voice, and she shrank back as if he had struck her.