Ayloffe listened to the tirade with the patience of a man who has had many dealings with the gentle if somewhat highly-strung sex. He patted her twitching fingers with his own soft, pulpy palm, and waited until her paroxysm of weeping had calmed down, then he said quietly:
"Nay, dear coz, the scene as it occurred round the most exclusive table at the Three Bears, in no way bears resemblance to the horrible picture which your fevered fancy has conjured up. My lord of Stowmaries told his pitiable tale in the midst of awed and sympathetic silence, broken only by brief exclamations of friendship and pity."
"And my name was not mentioned?" she asked, mollified but still incredulous.
"Not save in the deepest respect," he replied, whilst a line of sarcasm quickly repressed rose to his fleshy lips. "How could you suppose the reverse?"
"Ah, well, mayhap, since women were not present. But they will hear of it, too, to-day or to-morrow. The story is bound to leak out. My lord of Stowmaries' attentions to me were known all over the town—and to-day or to-morrow people will talk, will laugh and jeer. Oh! I cannot bear it," she added with renewed vehemence; "I cannot—I cannot—I verily believe 'twill drive me mad."
She rose and resumed her agitated walk up and down the small room, her clenched fists beating one against the other, her trembling lips murmuring with irritating persistency.
"I cannot bear it—I cannot bear it. The ridicule—the ridicule will kill me—"
Suddenly she paused in her restlessness, stood in front of Sir John and let her tear-dimmed eyes rest on his thick-set face.
"Cousin," she said deliberately, "you must find a way out of this impasse."