"Did he ill-treat her?"
"No. In his way, I suppose he was fond of her. But—she didn't like his way. She was very beautiful, and I fell in love with her, and she with me. And we ran away."
"Is—is that all? Is there no——?"
"No excuse? No, I suppose, none. And I lived with her till she died four years ago. And—Daisy is our daughter."
"And he—the husband?"
"He did not divorce her. I don't know why not, perhaps because she asked him to—anyhow he didn't. And he outlived her: so she died—as she had lived."
"And is he still alive?"
"No; he is dead now." He was about to go on, but checked himself. Why add that horror? How the man died was nothing between her and him.
"Have you no—nothing to say?" she burst out, almost angrily. "You just tell me that and stop!"