A week later the butler entered the dining room, and handed Blake a
letter addressed to him in his wife's handwriting. He took it
without a word, as though he had been expecting it. It simply told
him that she had left him for ever.
The world is small, and money commands many services. Sennett had
gone out for a stroll; Edith was left in the tiny salon of their
appartement at Fecamp. It was the third day of their arrival in
the town. The door was opened and closed, and Blake stood before
her.
She rose frightened, but by a motion he reassured her. There was a
quiet dignity about the man that was strange to her.
"Why have you followed me?" she asked.
"I want you to return home."
"Home!" she cried. "You must be mad. Do you not know--"
He interrupted her vehemently. "I know nothing. I wish to know
nothing. Go back to London at once. I have made everything right;
no one suspects. I shall not be there; you will never see me
again, and you will have an opportunity of undoing your mistake--
our mistake."
She listened. Hers was not a great nature, and the desire to
obtain happiness without paying the price was strong upon her.
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