"I wasn't—I mean—I was nervous, of course."
"You were frightened of what you might slip into saying. You told me so ten minutes ago."
"Oh, if you're trying to trap me?" she flashed out wrathfully.
He rejoiced at the tone. It was the impetuous Alwynne of his daily intercourse again. The mere relief of discussion was, as he had guessed, having a tonic effect on her nerves.
He smiled at her pleasantly.
"Don't tell me anything more, if you'd rather not."
She subsided at this.
"I didn't mean to be angry," she faltered. "Only I've guarded myself so from telling. You see, I lied at the inquest. It was perjury, I suppose." There was a little touch of importance in her tone. "But I'll tell you."
She hesitated, her older self once more supervening.
"Afterwards—when the doctor had come, and they took Louise away—after that ghastly afternoon was over——" She whitened. "It was ghastly, you know—so many people—crowding and gaping—I dream of all those crowded faces——"