He smiled.
"That is my secret—and hers," he answered.
"She has no secrets from me."
"Perhaps not, but I don't mix up my affairs in that promiscuous way. She may tell you, afterward, if she likes. Will you arrange it so that I can see her?"
For just a moment Jessica hesitated, and then said, quietly:
"Come with me; I'll take you to her boudoir."
And, knowing how her mother detested the man, knowing how she feared him, Jessica led him upstairs, and without seeking permission, ushered him into her mother's presence.
She did not wait to overhear that conversation, but went at once to Carlita's room.
Carlita did not hear her knock, did not hear the door open; but Jessica found her seated beside the window, her head resting upon the back of her chair, her eyes closed, her hands upon her lap, every muscle seemed to be relaxed save those of the hands, but these were so tightly compressed as to give ample indication of the terrible mental strain which had well-nigh exhausted her.
There was time for Jessica to observe her closely before Carlita became aware of her presence, and a smile of absolute hatred was changed quickly to one of tenderest solicitude as the dark eyes suddenly opened and rested upon her face.