“Curse it, George!” he burst out in helpless distraction, “she has a non-committal way, I admit it, of forcing upon one conclusions which she might say she never meant to suggest. She may have been mocking me, to lead me astray. I wish she had never come; I wish I had never consented to the part you laid on me. What hath it all ended in, but disaster? Whatever the truth of the other charge, there is no blinking the fact of the Duke’s visit.”
“How do you know? The whole thing may have been a fable to torment you. From all accounts, you haven’t played a very wooing part with her.”
“No, I can’t believe it. But anyhow ’tis easy proved. And, though Kit may prove a legend, I’ll never doubt but that she herself was somehow instrumental in bringing about this meeting.”
“And yet, you say, she reported on it to you.”
“Aye, a keyhole report.”
“Why, look there. In that case she must be a very arch-traitor—false to both sides.”
“’Tis like enough. But I’ll have no more of her. I told her in so many words she must go.”
“You did?”
“Why not? Why not? What have you to say against it?”
“I’m not sure I’ve anything. I think perhaps you did right.”