He was as white as paper, and his hand was pressed close to his side as
though some sudden pain had shot through him. For a moment he tottered
there like a stricken man, and then, with a hoarse cry, he turned and
fled out through the open door.
"Poor devil!" said Hector, gazing in amazement after him. "He seems
hard hit anyhow. But what is the meaning of all this, Laura?"
His face had darkened, and his mouth had set.
She had not said a word, but had stood with a face like a mask looking
blankly in front of her. Now she tore herself away from him, and,
casting herself down with her face buried in the cushion of the sofa,
she burst into a passion of sobbing.
"It means that you have ruined me," she cried. "That you have
ruined-ruined--ruined me! Could you not leave us alone? Why must you
come at the last moment? A few more days, and we were safe. And you
never had my letter."
"And what was in your letter, then?" he asked coldly, standing with his
arms folded, looking down at her.
"It was to tell you that I released you. I love Raffles Haw, and I was
to have been his wife. And now it is all gone. Oh, Hector, I hate you,
and I shall always hate you as long as I live, for you have stepped
between me and the only good fortune that ever came to me.
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