"I don't know whether you will consider this a disagreeable question. I suppose you will," said Janetta, with an effort. "I promised you once to say nothing to my friends about your affairs—about Julian's mother, and I have kept my word. But I must ask you now—does Miss Adair know that you are married?"
There was a moment's pause. They stood opposite one another, and, lifting her eyes to his face, she saw that he was frowning heavily and gnawing his moustache.
"What does that matter to you?" he said, angrily, at last.
She shrank a little, but answered steadily—
"Margaret is my friend."
"Well, what then?"
The color rose to Janetta's face. "I don't believe you knew what you were doing yesterday," she said; "but I knew—I heard people talking, and I knew what people thought. They said that you were paying attention to Miss Adair. They supposed you were going to marry her soon. None of them seemed to know that—that—your wife was still alive. And of course I could not tell them."
"Of course not," he assented, with curious eagerness; "I knew you would keep your word."
"You made Margaret conspicuous," Janetta continued, with some warmth. "You placed her in a very false position. If she thinks, as other people thought, that you want to marry her, she ought to be told the truth at once. You must tell her—yourself—that you were only amusing yourself—only playing with her, as no man has a right to play with a girl," said Janetta, with such vehemence that the tears rose to her great dark eyes and the scarlet color to her cheeks—"that you were flirting, in fact, and that Julian's mother—your wife, Cousin Wyvis—is still alive."