Her mind was over its numbness and through the whirl of nightmare meanings in that "I am Roly's wife;" and it came out of them as one shaken by a fall and strung up for vengeance. Marriage! Impossible! And she a fool to be frightened by it--at worst a horrid aftermath of disgusting conduct. "Quickly!" she cried and then burst out with: "I see what you are--to come at such a time--to this house of mourning--he scarcely dead--with such a story--wicked--infamous--I know, I see now why you were surprised to see me--an old lady you expected--grief-stricken--" She stopped, achoke for breath, and Audrey said: "Oh, please--please." Misgiving, that subtle, coward spy that spies the way for fear, cast its net over Lady Burdon. The pleading, gentle air--no flush of shame, no note of defiance hunted her mind back to its alarms. And Audrey said: "He did not wish our marriage known;" and at "marriage" misgiving turned and shouted fear to follow. She said slowly: "You persist marriage? There are proofs of marriage. Where are your proofs?" The pleading look only deepened: "But I never thought--" Audrey said, "--but I never thought--" She swayed, and swayed against the chair she held. It supported her. "I never thought I would not be believed. Lady Burdon will understand. I know she will understand. If I may see her, please..." "If you were married--proofs." There was a considerable space before Audrey answered. Presently she said very faintly: "I am very ill ... I am very ill ... I can bring proofs.... But she will understand.... Please let me see her.... Please, please..." In advertisement of her state her eyelids fluttered and fell upon her eyes while she spoke. Her voice was scarcely to be heard.