Explore "The Red Widow" by William Le Queux on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Marigold, hoping against hope, went each day from Wimbledon to the bank, where she sat adding and subtracting figures -- always wondering. Each morning, after a hurried breakfast, she dashed to the station and hung upon a swaying strap till she got to the City. Each evening she repeated the same experience home.
Gerald was missing. No further word had come nom him. She waited as each day passed -- waited eagerly, but he gave no sign. Each day she went to eat her frugal meal at the same little place, but his familiar figure never appeared in the doorway, as she knew it so well. His sister had heard nothing, and at Mincing Lane they were beginning to think that he had simply left his post without notice, perhaps in order to better himself.