Then she kissed me. "Cosma!" she said, "I'm glad that you know. I've wanted you to know. For I was afraid that you had guessed, and that it might make a difference to you ... when he tells you."
"Tells me...." I repeated. "Tells me...."
The blood came beating in my face and in my throat. Seeing this, she spoke on quietly about herself. We were sitting so when Mr. Ember came home. And I was struck by the exquisite dignity and beauty of her manner to him. She was like some one looking at him from some near-by plane, knowing that she might not touch him or speak to him—not because it was forbidden, but because they themselves were the law.
Then I looked at him, and I saw that he was looking at me strangely. There was a curious searching, meditative quality in his look which somehow terrified me. I sprang up.
"Mr. Ember," I said, "they want me to go home—there has been a telegram to a friend. I want to go with her. She needs me...."
"Where is 'home'?" he asked only.
"In the country," I answered, and had on my wraps and was at the door, "I'll be back to-morrow," I told him.
Mrs. Carney had risen.
"Cosma!" she said clearly. "Wait. I'll drive you home."