Melbain's eyes seemed scarcely to leave the face of the man who stood still by her chair.
"Alive!" she murmured, grasping his hand in hers. "You alive!"
Louise had taken his other hand. He was imprisoned between the two.
"Yes!" he said, "I made what they called a wonderful recovery. I suppose it was almost a miracle."
"But your death," Louise declared, "was never contradicted."
"A good deal of news went astray about that time," he remarked grimly. "I was left, and forgotten. When I found what had been done, I let it go. It seemed to me to be better. I went up to Rhodesia, and of course I had the devil's luck. I've come back to Europe simply because I couldn't stand it any longer. I was not coming to England, and I had no idea of seeing you, Emilie! I travelled here on a little pilgrimage."
"It was fate," she murmured.
"But since I am here," he continued, "and since we have met again, I must ask you this. Your husband is trying to divorce you?"
"Yes!" she murmured.
"And why?"
"Because he is a brute," she answered quietly. "We have been separated for more than a year. I think that he wants to marry again."
"And you permit this?" he asked.
"No!" she answered, "I contest it. Up to now, the courts have been in my favour."
"Up to now! They must always be in your favour!" he declared vehemently. "What can they say against a saint like you?"
