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 incredulity or anger, found herself unable to face either.

He detained her a moment, pleaded with her.

"Margaret, if there is anything behind this &hellip; anything you want to tell me&hellip;" She escaped from his detaining arm.

"I don't like my word doubted."

"You have not given me your word. This is not a second attempt, is it? Why did she force herself upon you? I shall see Kennedy myself tomorrow, find out what is going on."

"Why should there be anything going on? You are conjuring up ghosts &hellip;" Then she weakened, changed. "Gabriel, don't be so hard, so unlike yourself. I don't know what has come over you."

He put his arms about her and spoke hoarsely:

"My darling, my more than treasure. I can't doubt you, and yet I am riven with doubt. Forgive me, but how can you forgive me if I am wrong? Tell me again, tell me once and for always that nothing has been going on of which I have been kept in ignorance, that you would not, could not have broken your word to me. You look ill, scared &hellip; I know now that from the moment I came you have not been yourself, your beautiful candid self. Margaret, crown of my life, sweetheart; darling, speak, tell me. Is there anything I