"It's horribly bad for you."
"Ah, I'm better," she gasped back. "I had to run--all the way--because
of the rain."
"But why didn't you wait?" said Blake. "What were they thinking of to
let you come in this down-pour?"
"They couldn't help it." Muriel raised herself with a great sobbing
sigh. "It was nobody's fault but my own. I wanted to get away. Oh,
Blake, do you know--Nick is here?"
Blake started. "What? Already? Do you mean he is actually in the
place?"
She nodded. "He came up in a motor while we were playing. I suppose he
is staying at Redlands, but I don't know. And--and--Blake, he has
lost his left arm. It makes him look so queer." She gave a sudden,
uncontrollable shudder. The old dumb horror looked out of her eyes.
"I thought I shouldn't mind," she said, under her breath. "Perhaps--if
you had been there--it would have been different. As it was--as it
was--" She broke off, rising impetuously to her feet, and laying
trembling hands upon his arms. "Oh, Blake," she whispered, like a
scared child. "I feel so helpless. But you promised--you promised--you
would never let me go."
Yes, he had promised her that. He had sworn it, and, sick at heart,
he remembered that in her eyes at least he was a man of honour. It
had been in his mind to tell her the simple truth, just so far as he
himself was concerned, and thereafter to place himself at her
disposal to act exactly as she should desire.
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