“I know. But it does. You can take it from me. Listen. Giles doesn’t love her, really. Not yet, at any rate. He still loves me. But now that he thinks I don’t care, she—she’ll just romp home.”
“Why should he think that?”
“I told him I didn’t,” cried Katharine. “In so many words.”
Forsyth put a hand to his head.
“But if you do care, why did you——”
“Because I cared so much that I couldn’t go on.”
“Sit down, won’t you?” said Forsyth, indicating a chair. “I can’t give you long, for I’ve got someone waiting upstairs. But——”
“For God’s sake,” wailed Katharine, “don’t rush me. As it is, I’m beside myself. And if you——”
“Now, please go quietly,” said Forsyth. “I’m going to state the facts. Correct me if I go wrong. Little dreaming that your husband had written this letter to you, you gave him to understand that, so far as you were concerned, he was free to place his affections where he pleased.”
“Quite right.”