"It's too much of a tale already," says she. "I've no need to make any more of it." And then she said, "Walter, how could you?"
"How could I what? See Kitty! Stuff and nonsense!" said he. "If I did have a word with her, what's the harm? 'All's fair in love and war!'" says he, and he tried to laugh.
"Wrong-doing is never fair," Mary told him. And she said, "If you loved Kitty, you could not wish to make her deceitful."
"Well, you needn't bother," said he.
"And that is not all," Mary went on. "How could you—"
"How could I what?" said he, very short. "Tell Kitty she had a pretty face?"
"How could you rob her of her watch?" Mary said.
He was taken by surprise, and Mary's words struck home at last. He turned as white as paste, and a frightened look came into his face. If she'd asked him whether he'd done it, he'd have said, "No;" but she didn't ask him that, and no doubt he felt sure she knew a deal more than she did know.
"Why—why—why—" says he, stammering, "I declare, Mary, that's a—a nice thing to accuse a chap of! 'Rob,' indeed! When she gave it me!" says he.
"Did Kitty make a present to you of her watch and chain?" Mary asked.