incredulity or anger, found herself unable to face either.
He detained her a moment, pleaded with her.
"Margaret, if there is anything behind this … anything you want to tell me…" She escaped from his detaining arm.
"I don't like my word doubted."
"You have not given me your word. This is not a second attempt, is it? Why did she force herself upon you? I shall see Kennedy myself tomorrow, find out what is going on."
"Why should there be anything going on? You are conjuring up ghosts …" Then she weakened, changed. "Gabriel, don't be so hard, so unlike yourself. I don't know what has come over you."
He put his arms about her and spoke hoarsely:
"My darling, my more than treasure. I can't doubt you, and yet I am riven with doubt. Forgive me, but how can you forgive me if I am wrong? Tell me again, tell me once and for always that nothing has been going on of which I have been kept in ignorance, that you would not, could not have broken your word to me. You look ill, scared … I know now that from the moment I came you have not been yourself, your beautiful candid self. Margaret, crown of my life, sweetheart; darling, speak, tell me. Is there anything I