"Yesterday afternoon."

"From some one in the hotel?"

"Yes."

"From whom? Not that it matters."

"From those women who came yesterday. I didn't know whom they were
talking about. They were talking quite loud. They didn't know who I was."

"You say you didn't know whom they were talking about?"

"Not at first--not till you came in. Then I knew."

"I see. That was the first time you had heard of it?"

Her lips parted in assent, but her voice died under the torture.

"Then," he said, "I am profoundly sorry. If I had realised that, I would
not have spoken to you as I did."

The memory of it stung her.

"That," she said, "was--in any circumstances--unpardonable."

"I know it was. And I repeat, I am profoundly sorry. But, you see, I
thought you knew all the time, and that you had consented to forget it.
And I thought, don't you know, it was--well, rather hard on me to have it