He lost no time, therefore, in apprising Mary Braddock of the true
state of affairs. She sat before him, a great dread in her dark eyes,
the pallor of helplessness on her cheek, listening to the direful tale
he told. He did not make the mistake of minimizing the situation. He
spared her not the details, nor softened the stubborn facts. As
clearly as possible he drew for her the picture of Thomas Braddock as
he had seen him. He repeated faithfully all that Dick Cronk and the
Noakeses had told him, neglecting no particular in the known history
of her husband since the old circus days.
She was very still and tense. Her eyes never left his face while he
was speaking, except once when she looked toward the door in response
to a sound that led her to believe that Christine was returning. There
were times when he imagined that she was not breathing. After the
first few minutes she asked no questions, but mutely absorbed the
story as it fell from his lips. The light of joy and gladness in her
eyes that had been his welcome was gone now. In its place was the dark
gleam of dread and anxiety.
She interrupted him once, to ask him to tell her again how Braddock
looked and how he had acted.
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