For
a time they were alone together and then came Jenny with some soup.
She stopped to chat for a little while and, finding her uncle
apparently somnolent and disinclined to talk, turned to Mark and
spoke under her breath. She was still agitated and much preoccupied.
"Later, when we may, I should like to speak to you--indeed I must do
so. I am in great danger myself and can only look to you," she
whispered. Combined fear and entreaty filled her eyes and she put
her hand upon his sleeve. His own caught it and pressed it. He
forgot everything before her words. She had come to him at last of
her own free will.
"Trust me," he answered, so that only she could hear. "Your welfare
and happiness are more to me than anything else on earth."
"Doria will be out again later. Once he has gone--after dusk--we
can safely speak," she answered. Then she hastened away.
Albert Redmayne stirred himself as soon as Jenny withdrew. He was
dressed and lying on a couch beside the window.
"This subterfuge and simulation of ill health are most painful to
me," he declared.
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