Then his gaze wandered to
the green curtains. But his mind was clear. He was visited by no
delusions. This was not the Occidental Hotel.
It was long since he had read a book! He wondered, with his first
symptom of returning interest in life, if he was strong enough to
cross the room and find one of his favorite volumes. But as he raised
himself on his elbow Holt bent over him.
"What is it, old fellow?"
"Those books? How did they get here?"
"Lacey brought them. You remember, you left them in the _Times_
cellar."
"Are these your rooms?"
"No, they are Madeleine Talbot's."
He made no reply, but he did not scowl and turn his back as he had
done whenever Holt had tentatively mentioned her name before. The
sight of his familiar beloved books had softened his harsh spirit,
and the hideous chasm between his present and his past seemed visibly
shrinking. His tones, however, had not softened when he asked curtly
after a moment:
"What is the meaning of it all? Why is she here? Is Talbot dead?"
"No, he divorced her."
"Divorced her? Madeleine?" He almost sat upright. Mrs. Abbott could
not have looked more horrified. "Is this some infernal joke?"
"Are you strong enough to hear the whole story? I warn you it isn't
a pretty one. But I've promised her I would tell you--"
"What did he divorce her for?"
"Desertion.
Pages:
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218