“Yes, I remember it,” she said.
“Why did you say it was impossible?”
“Did I say impossible?”
She knew that she had said so. She remembered how she had waited till he had gone, and that then, going to her own room, she had reproached herself with the cowardice of the falsehood. She had lied to him then; and now—how was she punished for it?
“Well, I suppose it was possible,” she said.
“But why did you say so when you knew it would make me so miserable?”
“Miserable! nay, but you went away happy enough! I thought I had never seen you look better satisfied.”
“Lucy!”
“You had done your duty and had had such a lucky escape! What astonishes me is that you should have ever come back again. But the pitcher may go to the well once too often, Lord Lufton.”
“But will you tell me the truth now?”