“I couldn’t see his face—only hers—the fiend!”
“Shall we turn back and watch their movements?” I suggested.
“No, no! A thousand times no!” she shrieked, apparently terrified at such a suggestion. “Don’t go near her. Save me from her—won’t you, Claude? If you love me, don’t let her approach me. Will you?”
“Trust in me, darling,” I said reassuringly, yet greatly puzzled at the unexpected encounter, and in fear also that sudden sight of the hated woman might bring on another nerve attack.
She drew aside her veil and lifted her close-fitting little motor-hat from her brow, as though its weight oppressed her. Then I noticed how pale and terrified was her face. She had blanched to the very lips.
“Don’t trouble about the matter any more,” I urged, yet I knew well that sight of the mysterious woman had recalled to her memory some evil and terrible recollection that she had been striving to put from her for ever.
“But I do trouble about it, Claude,” she said in a harsh, apprehensive voice. “I fear for you more than I fear for myself. She is your enemy, as well as mine. Against her we are, both of us, powerless.”
I pricked up my ears at her words.
“What do you mean, Roseye?” I asked. “How can she be my enemy? I’ve never before set eyes upon the woman!”
“Ah! you don’t know, dear—so you can’t understand,” was my love’s impatient reply.