Mercer's only excuse
was that Wentworth was not the sort of man to make any woman happy.
Finally, when he had got what he wanted, Mercer left him, after swearing
eternal vengeance on him if he ever came within reach of you. The rest
you know."
Yes, Sybil knew the rest. She understood the whole story from beginning
to end, realized with what unscrupulous ingenuity she had been trapped
and wondered bitterly if she would ever endure her husband's presence
again without the shuddering sense of nausea which now overcame her at
the bare thought of him.
She sat in stony silence, till at last Curtis paused beside her.
"I want you to rest," he said. "I think, if you don't, the consequences
may be serious."
She looked up at him uncomprehendingly.
"Come, Mrs. Mercer!" he said.
She shrank at the name.
"Don't call me that!" she said, and stumbled uncertainly to her feet.
"I--I am going away."
He put a steadying hand on her shoulder.
"You can't," he said quietly. "You are not fit for it. Besides, there is
nowhere for you to go to. But I will get Mrs. Stevens, the innkeeper's
wife at Wallarroo, to come to you for a time. She is a good sort, you
can count on her.
Pages:
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271