"But you haven't----" he began--and broke off. He was about to say "you haven't a husband to tell you."
And she guessed his words instantly--but not his exact meaning.
"'I haven't a husband to tell me,' you were going to say. Why didn't you say it? It would have been no more than the truth."
"I was not thinking of Lorraine as the husband," he replied.
She gave a little gasp of surprise at its unexpectedness--a gasp that ended, however, in a smile and a shake of the ruddy head.
"Please give me a cigarette," she said, extending her hand.
He drew out his case and offered it to her.
"Is this all that I may give you now?" he asked.
"All!" she replied, passing a match across the tip. "All--now.... What is it, Tompkins?" as the butler appeared in the doorway and bowed.
"The telephone, madam!" monotoned Tompkins.
"The Homoeopathic Hospital, madam; they want to speak to you at once."
"What can it be?" she exclaimed, turning to Pendleton. "Come into the living-room with me, Montague--I'm afraid of hospitals--dreadfully afraid--even by telephone."
"I am Mrs. Lorraine," she said, when she reached the receiver. "What is it, please?"
"This is the Hahnemann Hospital, Mrs. Lorraine," came the answer and Pendleton could hear it on the other side of the table. "Your husband was seriously injured this evening when his automobile collided with a street car. He was unconscious when brought in, but revived for a moment and has asked for you."
She raised her eyes to Pendleton. He nodded that he had understood.
"Is he conscious now?" she asked to gain time. Her mind was in a whirl.
"No--he relapsed almost instantly. It is impossible to tell now how seriously he is injured. He has bled profusely, from several superficial wounds, but we fear he has been hurt internally. He may also be suffering from concussion. We thought it best, Mrs. Lorraine, to advise you of his condition and that he asked for you," the voice went on, a trifle apologetically.
"You did very right," she replied. "I'll come to the Hospital at once."
She hung up the receiver and looked at Pendleton.
"But I don't want to do it--I don't want to see him--I don't wish him to die, but----"
"Never mind," he said tenderly. "You don't have to go--you are quite justified in not seeing him. And his condition is not dependent upon your presence or your absence. Do exactly as you choose, Stephanie."