"Yes, there was a big house in Montreal?" said Fleda, her eyes now
resting sadly upon the woman.
"He said it should be mine. But that did not count. To be far away from
all that had been was more than all else. I was not thinking of the man,
or caring for him, I was flying from my shame. I did not see then the
shame to which I was going. I was a fool, and I was mad and bad also.
When I waked--and it was soon--there was quick understanding between us.
The big house in Montreal--that was never meant for me. He was already
married."
The old man stretched heavily to his feet, leaned both hands on the
table, and looked at the woman with glowering eyes, while Fleda's heart
seemed to stop beating.
"Married!" growled Gabriel Druse, with a blur of passion in his voice. He
knew that Felix Marchand had followed his daughter as though he were a
single man.
Fleda saw what was working in his mind. Since her father suspected, he
should know all.
"He almost offered me the big house in Montreal this morning," she said
evenly and coldly.
A malediction broke from the old man's lips.
"He almost thought he wanted me to marry him," Fleda added scornfully.
"And what did you say?" Druse asked.
"There could only be one thing to say.
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