When the woman heard their steps on the corridor she said to Catharine, "I hear my husband coming now."
"That will be pleasant for you," kindly, wondering to herself what sort of a ruffian had chosen this creature for a mate and had the burden of her to carry.
"Yes, I know his step," turning dully to the door. It opened, and Hugh Guinness stood on the threshold.
He halted one brief moment. It seemed to Catharine that he was an older man than she had known him.
"It is you, then, Louise?" he said calmly, going up to the bed and looking down on her, his hands clasped, as usual, behind him.
"Yes, it is I. I thought you would like to see me and talk things over before I died, Hugh." She held out her hand, but he did not touch it. Looking at her a moment from head to foot as she lay in her unclean garments, he turned to where the other woman stood, a ray of light from the window shining on her fair hair and innocent face: "Do you know that I am Hugh Guinness, Kitty?"
"I knew that long ago."
"This," nodding down at the pallet, "is my wife. Now do you know why I could not go home to my father or to you?"
"God help us!" ejaculated Pollard. The next moment, remembering himself, he put his hand on McCall's shoulder: "I understand. When you were a boy, eh? Never mind: every man has his own trouble to carry."
"I've been a very real trouble to you, Hugh," whined Louise. "But I always loved you: I always meant to come back to you."