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Luckily
the room was in its normal dim state of illumination, so that to one
suddenly entering, the expression on our faces was not clearly visible;
on the other hand, the subdued light gave a romantic setting to the
abominable situation.
Lola saved it, however. She rushed to Dale.
"Do you know what Mr. de Gex was just telling me? His illness--it is
worse than any one thought. It's incurable. He can't live long; he must
die soon. It's dreadful--dreadful! Did you know it?"
Dale looked from her to me, and after a slight pause, came forward.
"Is this true, Simon?"
A plague on the woman for catching me in the trap! Before Dale came in
I was on the point of putting an airy construction on my indiscreet
speech. I had no desire to discuss my longevity with any one. I want
to keep my miserable secret to myself. It was exasperating to have
to entrust it even to Dale. And yet, if I repudiated her implied
explanation of our apparent embrace it would have put her hopelessly in
the wrong. I had to support her.


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