"They all
think it is _nothing_--nothing at all."
He stared at her somewhat grimly, though evidently mystified.
"Come," he said, "let us get at the rights of this. And I'd really like a
glimpse of the fire--I'm half frozen."
He threw off his overcoat, stiffened with the ice, and strode into the
library toward the blazing hearth. Mrs. Marable was suddenly roused to
remember the decoction that she herself had prepared, and put the glass
into his hand. But he took only a single swallow, gazing in absorption at
Gladys, who had undertaken to detail the discovery of the stone in the
pocket of the little red coat, and the theory that Mrs. Royston had
desperately based upon it. Lillian herself was hanging her head in shame
for her folly, that she should for this fantastic illusion have inflicted
on this man of all men, on whom indeed she had least claim, the agony he
had endured, and the peril of his life.
She could never have described the overwhelming tumult of her heart when
he lifted his head at the end of the story, with a look of grave and
intent pondering.
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