"Do not judge him harshly, Maude. Indeed he is a true friend to you and
to me. And I have need of one just now."
"A true friend!--to advise that! I never heard of anything so monstrous.
You must be out of your mind."
"No, I am not, Maude. Should--disgrace"--he seemed to hesitate for a
word--"fall upon me, it must touch you as connected with me. I _know_,
Maude, that he was thinking of your best and truest interests."
"But to talk of separating husband and wife!"
"Yes--well--I suppose he spoke strongly in the heat of the moment."
There was a pause. Lord Hartledon had his hand still on his wife's
shoulder, but his eyes were bent on the table near which they stood. She
was waiting for him to speak.
"Won't you tell me what has happened?"
"I can't tell you, Maude, to-night," he answered, great drops coming out
again on his brow at the question, and knowing all the time that he
should never tell her. "I--I must learn more first."
"You spoke of disgrace," she observed gently, swaying her fan before her
by its silken cord. "An ugly word."
"It is. Heaven help me!"
"Val, I do think you are the greatest simpleton under the skies!" she
exclaimed out of all patience, and flinging his hand off. "It's time you
got rid of this foolish sensitiveness. I know what is the matter quite
well; and it's not so very much of a disgrace after all! Those Ashtons
are going to make you pay publicly for your folly.
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