aying so,--and I wanted to keep the watch,
but sister carried it away. She didn't tell me what it meant, her having
your picture where she could see it all the time, but when she came again
she made me know that you and she were married, by pointing at the
picture and then throwing something white over her head; I didn't ask for
the watch after that, but--"

A far-away look, a trembling of her whole body, finished this ingenuous
confession. Ransom edged himself away and then was sorry for it, for her
lip quivered and her hands, from being quiet, began that nervous
interlacing of the fingers which bespeaks mental perturbation.

"I am very ignorant," she faltered; "perhaps I have said something wrong.
I don't mean to, I want to be a good girl and please you, so that you
won't send me away now sister is gone. Ah, I know what you want," she
suddenly broke out, as he seized her by the arm and looked inquiringly at
her. "You want me to tell why I jumped out of the carriage that night and
vexed Georgian and was naughty and wouldn't speak to her. I can't, I
can't. You wouldn't like it if I did. But I'm sorry now, and will never
vex you, but do just what you want me to. Shall I go up-stairs now?"

He shook his head. How could he let her go with so much unsaid? She had
talked frankly till she had reached the very place where his greatest
interest lay. Then she had suddenly shown shyness of her subject and
leaped the gap, as it were, to the present moment. How recall her to the
hour when she had seen Georgian for the second time? How urge her into a
description of those days succeeding his wife's flight from the hotel, of
which he had no account, save the feverish lines of the letter she had
sent him. He was racking his brain for some method of communicating his
wishes to Anitra, when he heard steps behind him, and, turning, saw the
clerk approaching him with a telegram.

He glanced at her slyly as he took it. Somehow he couldn't get used to
her deafness, and expected her to give some evidence of surprise or
curiosity. But she was still studying her hands, and as his eyes lingered
on her downcast face he saw a tear well from her lids and wet the cheek
she held partly turned from him. He wanted to kiss that tear, but
refrained and opened his telegram instead. It was from Mr. Harper, and
ran thus:

Expect a visitor. The man we know has left the St. Denis.

CHAPTER XIX

IN MRS. DEO'S ROOM

A prey to fresh agitatio