“She is right. He is more deeply in love with her than before their marriage, while on her part her open flirtations and love of admiration are little short of scandalous!” she declared.
“And yet you would protect such a woman—even though she seek your downfall?”
“The divine lesson taught us, Willoughby, is to forgive our enemies, and to allow them an opportunity for reform,” she answered calmly. “Were I to hound her down by an exposure of the past, I should myself merit neither pity nor compassion.”
“But she remains silent in order that you shall go to your ruin,” I remarked.
“Her silence may be the result of ignorance,” she suggested. “She may not really know the truth, but for some secret reason has made Keene believe she is aware of everything.”
There was something in that argument which caused me to ponder, for I recollected that her whole object had been to deceive the man who was her husband’s guest.
“But had you no suspicion that she knew the truth?” I asked.
“None whatever.”
“It seems, however, that Marigold is also in possession of some secret concerning this man Keene, for she threatened that if he revealed his real name to her husband, or sought to expose her, that she would inform the police of his whereabouts. Does that threat of hers convey anything to you?”
“Did she really say that?” ejaculated my love in blank surprise. “If she did, then it throws a new light upon the affair. She must have met the woman Lejeune, and the latter has told her certain very important facts in order to place Keene in her power. And yet,” she added, pausing, “I doubt very much if Marigold dare denounce Keene for her own sake.”