The whole episode was incredible. It was the kind of thing,
I kept telling myself, that did not happen. Even in a book nobody could
believe it.
"But her husband? He is the one who must protect her."
She gave me a blighting look. "He would if he could. He isn't to
blame--you mustn't think that. He is one of the best men in the world,
but he can't help her. He can't help her because he doesn't know. He
doesn't see it."
A bell rang somewhere, and catching up the tea-tray, she paused just
long enough to throw me a pleading word, "Stand between her and harm, if
you see it."
When she had gone I locked the door after her, and turned on all the
lights in the room. Was there really a tragic mystery in the house, or
were they all mad, as I had first imagined? The feeling of apprehension,
of vague uneasiness, which had come to me when I entered the iron doors,
swept over me in a wave while I sat there in the soft glow of the shaded
electric light. Something was wrong. Somebody was making that lovely
woman unhappy, and who, in the name of reason, could this somebody be
except her husband? Yet the maid had spoken of him as "one of the best
men in the world," and it was impossible to doubt the tearful sincerity
of her voice. Well, the riddle was too much for me.
Pages:
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283