"No--no--no," she protested. "It was not that. I know it was not that.
It was my money--it was that which drove you away. You have just said
so."

"You wrote me a hateful letter," he persisted. "You didn't want to see
me. You sent it to me by your sweet, young brother."

Her eyes flashed. "My letter did not drive you away. It couldn't have.
You went because you did not love me. It was that and my money, not the
letter, not the letter."

Somehow she had a curious feeling that the very letter which contained
her bitter and hateful reproaches might save her yet. The fact that he
had not opened it--well, she must see Kitty again. Her husband was in a
dark mood. She must wait. She knew that her fortunate moment had passed
when the rogue Burlingame appeared. She must wait for another.

"Shall I go now? You want to see that man outside. Shall I go, Shiel?"
She was very pale, very quiet, steady and gentle.

"I must hear what that fellow has to say. It is business--important,"
he replied. "It may mean anything--everything, or nothing."

As she left the room he had an impulse to call her back, but he conquered
it.




CHAPTER XVI