"Lady Ruth," he said, "you have spoken the truth. I am a dead man. I
have no affections; I care neither for you nor for any living being.
All that goes to the glory and joy of life perished in that
uncountable roll of days, when the sun went out, and inch by inch the
wall rose which will divide me forever from you and all the world.
Frankly, it was not I who once loved you. It was the man who died in
prison. His flesh and bones may have survived--nothing else!"
She rose slowly to her feet. Her eyes seemed to be dilating.
"There is another woman!" she exclaimed softly. Her voice was like
velvet, but the agony in her face was unmistakable.
"There is no other woman," he answered.
She stood quite still.
"She is here with you now," she cried. "Who is it, Wingrave? Tell me
the truth!"
"The truth is already told," he answered. "Except my cook and her
assistants, there is not a woman in the house!"
Again she listened. She gave a little hoarse cry, and Wingrave
started. Out in the hall a girl's clear laugh rang like a note of
music to their ears.
"You lie!" she cried fiercely. "You lie! I will know who she is."
Suddenly the door was thrown open! Juliet stood there, her hands full
of roses, her face flushed and brilliant with smiles.
"How delightful to find you here!" she exclaimed, coming swiftly
across to Wingrave. "I do hope you won't mind my coming. Normandy is
off, and I have nowhere else to go.
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