The slight catch in her voice was breaking almost on a note of
hysteria.
"You're excited, you know," he said gently. "You know, you're
imagining things. You've got no grounds for them--I assure you you've
got no grounds. Come to the music hall with me and forget all about
it."
She shook her head.
"I couldn't," she replied; "I couldn't. I--I shan't do anything
foolish, but I think I'll go now--now--if you've finished."
"Yes, I've quite finished. But I'm going to say something first."
"What?"
"Don't let your imagination run riot with you; and if I can do
anything for you--there's nothing to be done, I mean--but if I can,
you let me know. Will you?"
She nodded her head vaguely. It meant nothing to her; but she nodded
her head.
CHAPTER VIII
Mrs. Durlacher had asked one of her guests to come early.
"Come at seven," she had said; "before if you can." And Miss
Standish-Roe had arrived at a quarter to the hour.
When she entered the drawing-room, Mrs. Durlacher kissed her
affectionately, then held her at arm's length, her hands on her
shoulders and gazed pensively into her eyes.
"Why do you look at me like that?" Coralie asked.
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