It was a
cheap boarding-house but she had not enough money to pay for her
meals. She was tired of life. She was in a desperate state
altogether."
"Are you trying to tell me, or rather trying not to tell me, that
Beatrice was mad enough to think of committing suicide?"
Elizabeth inquired.
"She was in the frame of mind when such a step was possible," he
answered, gravely. "You remember that night when I first saw you
in the chemist's shop across the street? She had been very ill
that evening, very ill indeed. You could see for yourself the
effect meeting you had upon her."
Elizabeth nodded, and crumbled a little piece of roll between her
fingers. Then she leaned over the table towards Tavernake.
"She seemed terrified, didn't she? She hurried you away--she
seemed afraid."
"It was very noticeable," he admitted. "She was terrified. She
dragged me out of the place. A few minutes later she fainted in
the cab."
Elizabeth smiled.
"Beatrice was always over-sensitive," she remarked. "Any sudden
shock unnerved her altogether. Are you terrified of me, too, Mr.
Tavernake?"
"I don't know," he answered, frankly. "Sometimes I think that I
am."
She laughed softly.
"Why?" she whispered.
He looked into her eyes and he felt abject. How was it possible
to sit within a few feet of her and remain sane!
"You are so wonderful," he said, in a low tone, "so different
from any one else in the world!"
"You are glad that you met me, then--that you are here?" she
asked.
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