Yes, I loved you. But how long was it permitted that this love
should live? Six slender months! You, you of all women, you write
anonymous letters?" He laughed, but it was laughter that had nothing
human in it. "Madam, when I die my deposit box at the bank will be
turned over to you. In it you will find six anonymous letters. They
have lain there sixteen years. I took the advice of one and followed
you. So I let them believe that I had married you for your money. I
meant to have my revenge after I was dead. Madam, you will go to
Europe. I shall not be home to lunch, but you may expect me at dinner.
I am curious to learn whether it will be in Egypt and the Holy Land,
or Italy, the land of the fig-tree and the vine. Good morning."
When he was gone, Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene realized, for the first time
in sixteen years, that she had married a man. Suddenly her knees gave
from under her, and she sank into her chair, staring at the floor with
unseeing eyes. For sixteen years!
That afternoon Warrington had a visit. His visitors were Jordan, the
reporter, and Osborne. They appeared to be in high spirits.
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