I could think only of my anxiety for
her. Yet I went to her and took her hand.
"Mary,--I am weary of madame and monsieur between us,--you are my wife.
May I talk of our future?"
I spoke in the very words I had used the night I asked her to marry
me,--to marry me for my convenience. I remembered it as I heard my
tongue form the phrase, and it recalled my argument of that time,--that
she must marry me because my plans were more to me than her wishes.
She withdrew from me. "Monsieur Cadillac is waiting for you. You
wield great power."
Something new had come to her tone. I would have none of it. "Mary,
may I talk to you?"
But still she drew away. "Monsieur, I am confused, and you are needed
elsewhere. Not to-night, I beg you, not to-night."
I could not protest. In truth, I knew that Cadillac needed me. I went
with her to the door.
"To-morrow, then?" I begged. "Will you listen to-morrow, madame?"
But she had grown very white. "You are important here. There is work
for you. Be careful of your safety. Please be careful."
I took her hand. "Thank you, madame."
There was much in my tone that I kept out of my words, but she was not
conscious of it. She was not thinking of herself, and her eyes, that
were on mine, were full of trouble.
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