“Surely you have heard the story. Mr. M’Kinlay could not have been a week at the Vyners’ without telling it.”
“I have heard nothing, I know nothing. Tell me at once, are you a wife?—have you a husband living?”
“You must be patient, Harry, if you want a somewhat long history.”
“I want no more than what I asked you. Are you a married woman? Answer me that.”
“Be calm, and be quiet and listen to me,” said she, sitting down at his side. “You can answer your own question when I shall have finished.”
“Why not tell me in one word? A Yes or a No cannot cost you so much, though one of them may cost me heavily.”
“What if I could not so answer you? What if no such answer were possible? Will you hear me now?”
“Say on,” muttered he, burying his face between his hands—“say on!”
“I have a long story to tell you, Harry, and I will tell it all; first, because you shall give me your counsel; and secondly, because, if you should hear others speak of me, you will know where is the truth. You will believe me? Is it not so?”
“That I will. Go on.”