"I have heard," she began, faltering, "I have heard that--" She
stopped. Her tongue would not shape the story. But after a glance at
her, he understood.
"And thou hast heard it, also?" he whispered. "Thou believest it?"
It seemed that to acknowledge her fear that the King had come and gone
would establish the fact.
"No!" she cried.
"It is enough," he said nervously. "We do not well to talk of it. I
came for another reason. Tell me; hast thou other shelter than this
house?"
"No," she answered.
"Hast thou talked with this Philadelphus, here?" he asked after
silence.
She assented with averted face.
"Is he that one who was with me in the hills?" he persisted.
Again she assented, with surprise.
His hands clenched and for a moment he struggled with his rage.
"This house is no place for you!" he declared at last.
"What manner of house is this?" she asked pathetically. "It is so
strange!"
"Why did you come here?"
"Because there was nowhere else to go."
He was silent.
"Who is this Amaryllis?" she asked.
"John's mistress."
She shrank away from him and looked at him with horror-stricken eyes.
"Hast thou not yet seen him, who buys thy bread and meat and insures
this safe roof?" he persisted.
"And--and I eat bread--bought--bought by--" she stammered.
"Even so!"
Her hands dropped at her sides.
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