"You have not spoken the truth, Leo," he remarked in the tense manner of one who is making a violent effort to moderate his fury.
"I'm certainly trying to," she said.
"Shall I tell you the truth?" he snarled.
"No—please don't!"
He was silent for a moment, swallowing down his wrath.
"It's that man!" he said at last. "That's who it is. If I had asked you three days ago you would—you would have consented. It's that man!"
She cast a glance askance at him. He was boiling with mortification now, and perhaps nothing makes even the noblest features look more mean than the smart of a rebuff.
"I'm sure I don't know what you're driving at," she said calmly.
He laughed bitterly. But his cheeks were pricking him, and the garden danced before his eyes.
"It's Lord Henry, of course," he sneered. "He has conquered your affections meanwhile."