“She loves my husband.”
“Mrs. West!”
“Oh, of course that’s an extraordinary thing for me to say to anybody, especially to you, who I don’t really know. But I must speak to someone, and I’ve no relations and no real friend—unless you’ll be one.”
Maddison left the easel, and went across the room to where she was standing by the window.
“Mrs. West, take my advice: don’t tell me any more, and don’t ask me anything. I—don’t see how—I know that I can’t help you——”
“You won’t help me?” she asked, disappointment in her tone. “You won’t? I—thought you would.”
“Not won’t—can’t.”
“How can you tell? I’ve not really told you anything yet.”
“You’ve told me enough for me to be able, more or less, to guess the rest—and I’m sure that there is only one person in the world that can really help you—you must help yourself.”
“That’s so easy to say. I don’t know how. I don’t know how.”