"I expected you yesterday, Teddy," she said, taking my hand. "I waited all day, but you never came."
"I had to go into the country," I replied somewhat lamely.
Then after a brief conversation upon trivialities, during which time I sat regarding her closely, and noting how nervous and agitated she seemed, she suddenly asked:
"Well! Have you heard anything more of that woman, Mrs. Petre?"
"I believe she's gone abroad," I replied, with evasion.
Phrida's lips twitched convulsively, and she gave vent to a slight sigh, of relief, perhaps.
"Tell me, dearest," I said, bending and stroking her soft hair from her white brow. "Are you still so full of anxiety? Do you still fear the exposure of the truth?"
She did not reply, but of a sudden buried her face upon my shoulder and burst into tears.
"Ah!" I sighed, still stroking her hair sympathetically, "I know what you must suffer, darling—of the terrible mental strain upon you. I believe in your innocence—I still believe in it, and if you will bear a stout heart and trust me, I believe I shall succeed in worsting your enemies."
In a moment her tear-stained face was raised to mine.