I give you my word I won't follow."
He took up his helmet and went out of the room, and Mrs. Boulte sat till the
moonlight streaked the floor, thinking and thinking and thinking. She had done
her best upon the spur of the moment to pull the house down; but it would not
fall. Moreover, she could not understand her husband, and she was afraid. Then
the folly of her useless truthfulness struck her, and she was ashamed to write
to Kurrell, saying: "I have gone mad and told everything. My husband says that
I am free to elope with you. Get a dak for Thursday, and we will fly after
dinner." There was a cold-bloodedness about that procedure which did not
appeal to her. So she sat still in her own house and thought.
At dinner-time Boulte came back from his walk, white and worn and haggard, and
the woman was touched at his distress. As the evening wore on, she muttered
some expression of sorrow, something approaching to contrition. Boulte came
out of a brown study and said, "Oh, that! I wasn't thinking about that. By the
way, what does Kurrell say to the elopement?"
"I haven't seen him," said Mrs. Boulte. "Good God! is that all?"
But Boulte was not listening, and her sentence ended in a gulp.
The next day brought no comfort to Mrs.
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