5
The next morning I again mounted guard, while Lady Loring rested. We had agreed that, if no change for the worse shewed itself, it would be quite unnecessary to continue this day and night attendance. Physically Sonia was quite normal, but her nerves were unstrung, and for a time it had certainly looked as if hysteria might develop into something graver. Two nights' untroubled sleep, the belated recognition that she was among friends and, most of all, the relief of confession had braced her and built up her self-respect. When I went in to see her she was still a little defiant, but it was the defiance of courage.
"Is David here?" was her first question.
"He went back to Loring House when he'd finished his packing," I answered.
Sonia looked at me in silence, and her eyes narrowed.
"Oh! So that's it," she murmured at length.
"What is what?" I asked.
She sighed carelessly.
"You were right, and he was wrong, that's all. I was right too.... I knew that, when I left this house, I'd left David for good; if I hadn't known it then, I knew it when—when we came here that night and he offered to drop the divorce if I'd leave—you remember? He thought he was somehow so different from other men.... What did he actually say?"
"He didn't say anything, Sonia. I think you're on the wrong tack. He just asked if I'd read the letter and if I remembered it. I said 'Yes.' Then he smiled and begged me to forget it."