Part 74 (2/2)
”Why didn't you go home before last night?” she asked harshly.
”I tell you, I am not going to talk of my affairs,” he answered, with a burst of pa.s.sion. ”If you want to drive me mad--! Can't you answer me?
Do you know anything, or guess anything, about her?”
”Yes,” said Miriam, after some delay, speaking deliberately, ”I can give you some information.”
”Then do so, and don't keep me in torment.”
”Yesterday afternoon I happened to be pa.s.sing Mr. Mallard's studio, and I saw her enter it; she came in a cab. She stayed there an hour or two; it grew dark whilst she was there. Then I saw them both go away together.”
Elgar stared, half incredulously.
”You saw this? Do you mean that you waited about and watched?”
”Yes.”
”You had suspicions?”
”I knew what a happy home she had returned to.”
Again she seated herself.
”She went there to ask about me,” said Elgar, in a forced voice.
”You think so? Why to him? Wouldn't she rather have come to me? Why did she stay so long? Why did he go away with her? And why hasn't she returned home?”
Question followed question with cold deliberateness, as if the matter barely concerned her.
”But Mallard? What is Mallard to her?”
”How can I tell?”
”Were they together much in Rome?”
”I think very likely they were.”
”Miriam, I can't believe this. How could it happen that you were near Mallard's studio just then? How could you stand about for hours, spying?”
”Perhaps I dreamt it.”
”Where is this studio?” he asked. ”I knew the other day, but I have forgotten.”
She told him the address.
”Very well, then I must go there. You still adhere to your story?”
”Why should I invent it?” she exclaimed bitterly ”And what is there astonis.h.i.+ng in it? What right have _you_ to be astonished?”
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