"And who are you?—who is your husband?"
"Captain Mayne."
"Mayne! why the joke gets better and better! you don't even speak; could you not think of someone more probable? What a preposterous make-up."
"It's no make-up, on my honour."
"Does Mrs. De Wolfe know?" he demanded sharply.
"No!"
"Nothing will ever make me believe your foolish story; if it were the truth, why conceal it?"
"Because"—choking as she spoke—"immediately after the ceremony my father died; I was crazy with grief, I hated the sight of Captain Mayne, I wrote, and told him this,—and then I ran away."
"Ah! so you can run away! Do you hate Captain Mayne now?"
"No, and if he would ask me, I would go back to him to-morrow."