"I am very tired, Sir Geoffrey," she said, attempting to withdraw her hand from his clasp, "and must beg you to excuse me this evening. My cousin Margaret will entertain you."
"She will do nothing of the sort," said a laughing voice from above; "Cousin Margaret is on her way to bed!"
"Then I will ask you to excuse me, Sir Geoffrey, if I follow Peggie's example. I have lost the habits of gay London life, and two days of it have made me almost sick with fatigue."
"Give me but five minutes," he entreated, "and I swear I'll detain you no longer." He opened the door as he spoke and led her into the room, in which a single lamp, turned low, emphasized the darkness.
She stood facing him without a word. Suddenly he tried to take her in his arms, but she repulsed him with a gesture almost of horror. "You forget, Sir Geoffrey," she said, "that I am the wife of another man."
He laughed ironically. "Is it possible that you are taking this farce seriously? I feared I had had the misfortune to offend you, and am relieved to find that nothing worse has come between us than Robin Freemantle."
"That is enough for the present," she said. "While one man can call me wife, all other men must keep their distance."
"Even your betrothed lover, Prudence?" he pleaded reproachfully.
"You more than any one," she replied resolutely. "Without you, I could not have married this unfortunate man, and you should, at least, respect the wife you helped him to."
"Heaven give me patience!" he cried, exasperated. "Do you really look upon yourself as the wife of this gallows-bird? Pray, do you propose to don widow's weeds on Monday?"