She caught his eyes and held them with her own. All the
silence and sorrow, all the remorse and regret of the past twenty-six
years gathered in her face.
"Yes and no," he answered with emotion. "You've quarrelled with Junia?"
"No," he replied.
"Why don't you marry her?" she urged. "We all would like it, even your
father."
"I can't."
"Why?" She leant forward with a slight burning of the cheek. "Why,
Carnac?"
He had determined to keep his own secret, to hide the thing which had
vexed his life, but a sudden feeling overcame his purpose. With impulse
he drew out the letter he had received in John Grier's office and handed
it to her.
"Read that, and then I'll tell you all about it--all I can."
With whitening face, she took the letter and read its few lines. It was
written in French, with savage little flourishes and twists, and the name
signed at the end was "Luzanne." At last she handed it back, her fingers
trembling.
"Who is Luzanne, and what does it mean?" What she had read was startling.
He slowly seated himself beside her. "I will tell you."
When Carnac had ended his painful story, she said to him: "It's
terrible--oh, terrible. But there was divorce."
"Yes, but they told me I couldn't get a divorce.
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