“Give my excuses, Sandro,” she commenced, as the old butler appeared in the doorway.
But she was too late, for the visitor had followed close upon the man’s heels. Decidedly annoyed, she turned and faced the intruder, a courteous smile upon her lips.
If Anne had been a frail woman, she might have fainted. As she was, she came nearer to it than ever in her life before. The color drained from her face. She stared with dilated eyes, as a slim, tall man traversed the distance between them in a few short strides.
“Anne, I have come back. Will you take me?”
Falling at her feet, Alexis encircled her knees with relentless young arms.
CHAPTER XXVII
CLAIRE’S CHILD
Anne led Alexis into the library, and fell into a chair before the fire.
“What does this mean? Have you left Claire after all?” Her widened eyes stared at Alexis coldly. So all his good resolutions had meant just nothing? The weakling strain would out. She might have guessed it.
But his gaze met hers unflinchingly. “Claire is dead,” he whispered. The words issued from pale lips almost inaudibly.
Hands pressed against the arms of her chair, Anne started up. Her rising scream was subdued to a whisper. “Claire dead!”