"What do you mean?" he asked hoarsely.
"I saw you," she returned simply, "when we were at the station, auntie and I, on the twenty-second----"
"The twenty-second!" he echoed, through blanched lips.
"Yes, you were at Waterloo Station with some one, I did not see her face. But what does it matter now? If you had cared----" She stopped abruptly.
"I do care," he reiterated passionately. "Heaven above knows that; but I do not hope to make you believe me. Constance, I can give neither you nor any living being the explanation of that awful day. But I swear to you that the meeting was unsought by me. I could not help myself. I do not know how all this has come about. I understood from Standon that--that he was engaged to----"
"Muriel Branton," interrupted Constance softly. "He told me himself."
For a moment Adrien stared at her in stupefaction.
"If I had known we were at cross-purposes!" he exclaimed. "I see it all now--when it is too late," and sinking down on the stone seat he buried his face in his hands.
For a minute there was silence, broken at last by the rustle of Lady Constance's dress as she came timidly towards him.
"Adrien," she murmured, very low indeed, but not so low that he did not hear.