Ralph Duncombe flushed angrily and a passionate retort rose to his lips, but he crushed it down.
"You have every right to demand an explanation, Lord Auchester," he said with an unnatural calmness, "and I give it you. I interfered because I once loved Miss Lisle, and because I did not consider you a fit husband for her. I judged you by the estimate I had formed on hearsay. I thought that I was doing Miss Lisle a service in helping to prevent the marriage."
Yorke swore.
"Even your anger shall not stop me in confessing that I erred," Ralph went on. "I was wrong, I admit it. But I did what I did for the best."
"The best!" groaned Yorke.
"Yes! You cannot but know the character the world gives you. A spendthrift—one who carried on an intrigue with a dancing woman——."
Yorke held up his hand.
"No more, sir!" he said sternly.
But Ralph went on doggedly:
"I thought I was acting wisely and righteously in preventing your marriage to such a woman as Leslie Lisle. I admit I was wrong; and I am ready to yield you any satisfaction you may desire."