She was suffering because
_he_ was near! _He_ understood.
A tense, bitter oath struggled through his lips.
"Well, it's time she knew," he muttered in self-justification.
Impelled by a strange anxiety--perhaps it was apprehension--he
strained his eyes in the effort to penetrate the depths of the
unfriendly hall at the servant's back. His ear seemed bent to catch
the sounds of sobs or moans that he knew must reach him if he listened
closely.
He again questioned the servant with his eyes, a long, intense
scrutiny that confused the man.
Then he turned away.
"All right," he said sullenly, putting his hands into his pockets once
more and drawing up his shoulders as if he were cold. "I'll come
again. Tell Mrs. Braddock I was here and that I'll be back in a couple
of hours." Another glance through the half-open door, over the
footman's shoulder, and he stalked off, his jaw set, his hands
clenched in the pockets of his coat. At the foot of the steps he shot
a quick, involuntary glance upward, taking in the second story
windows. The wondering servant looked after him until he turned the
corner below.
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