CHAPTER XVII.
GONE FOR EVER!
ONE evening—it was nearly three years from the date of their marriage—Hartley Emerson and his wife were sitting opposite to each other at the centre-table, in the evening. She had a book in her hand and he held a newspaper before his face, but his eyes were not on the printed columns. He had spoken only a few words since he came in, and his wife noticed that he had the manner of one whose mind is in doubt or perplexity.
Letting the newspaper fall upon the table at length, Hartley looked over at his wife and said, in a quiet tone,
"Irene, did you ever meet a lady by the name of Mrs. Lloyd?"
The color mounted to the face of Mrs. Emerson as she replied,
"Yes, I have met her often."
"Since when?"
"I have known her intimately for the past two years."