Wingrave!"
There was a note of despair in her last cry. Her arms fell to her
side. Wingrave was on his way to the further end of the room. He rang
the bell and turned towards her.
"Listen," he said calmly, "you will return to London tonight. If ever
I require you, I shall send for you--and you will come. At present I
do not. You will return to your husband. Understand!"
"Yes," she gasped, "but--"
He held out his hand. Morrison was at the door.
"Morrison," he said, "you will order the motor to be round in half an
hour to take Lady Ruth to Truro, She has to catch the London express.
You will go with her yourself, and see that she has a reserved
carriage. If, by any chance, you should miss the train, order a
special."
"Very good, sir."
"And tell the cook to send in tea and wine, and some sandwiches, in
ten minutes."
Once more they were alone. Lady Ruth rose slowly to her feet and,
trembling in every limb, she walked down the room and fell on her
knees before Wingrave.
"Wingrave," she said, "I will go away. I will do all that you tell me;
I will wear my chains bravely, and hold my peace. But before I go, for
heaven's sake, say a kind word, look at me kindly, kiss me, hold my
hands; anything, anything, anything to prove to me that you are not a
dead man. I could bear unkindness, reproaches, abuse. I can bear
anything but this deadly coldness. It is becoming a horror to me! Do,
Wingrave--do!"
She clasped his hand--he drew it calmly away.
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