. . .You did not mean a word of what you said that afternoon? Not one word?” She spoke very slowly and distinctly.

He was silent still, pacing up and down before her. Suddenly, without a word, she turned from him and walked quickly away, towards the hotel. He started and stood still, looking after her—then he also made a step.

“Fan!” he called, in a tone she could hear, but she went on. “Mrs. Crosby!” he called again.

She stopped, turned, and waited. It was clear that Lady Fan was a nickname, Clare thought.

“Well?” she asked.

Clare clasped her hands together in her excitement, watching and listening, and holding her breath.

“Don’t go like that!” exclaimed Brook, going forward and holding out one hand.

 

“Do you want me?” asked the lady in white, very gently, almost tenderly. Clare did not understand how any woman could have so. . . Read More