"Lyveden?" he said hoarsely.
There was an electric silence.
Then Anthony turned to Miss Strongi'th'arm.
"I most humbly apologize," he said. "My feelings got the better of me.
I pray that you will try to forgive me." He turned to Winchester.
"This lady needed some water for her radiator, and came to my door——"
"You blackguard!" said Winchester. "You——"
"It's a lie!" flamed André.
The cold steel of her tone fairly whistled. Instinctively both men started.
"It's a lie, Richard. He's the cleanest, straightest man that ever breathed. He'd no idea who I was. He hasn't now. He never knew my name till you said it. I forced myself upon him the other day. I forced myself upon him to-night. And he's—he's just turned me down…. He said what he did just now to try and shield me. But he's blameless. It was I who—made the running. And I'm glad you saw it. Glad!" She tore off her left glove. "Because it's your own fault. It's eighteen months since I promised to be your wife. Eighteen solid months. And I'm tired—sick of waiting—fed up. First it was Russia: then the North of France: then—Gramarye. Gramarye!" She flung back her head and laughed wildly. Then she snatched a ring from her finger and hurled it on to the ground. "There's the ring you gave me. God knows why I didn't give it you back yesterday—months ago. I'd reason enough. I suppose I still hoped…. But now you've killed it. I don't even care what happens to you. You've messed up my life, you've messed up your own, and, what's a million times worse, you're doing your level best to mess up his."
Upon the last words her voice broke piteously, and André covered her eyes. So she stood for a moment, white-faced, her lips trembling…. Then she whipped into the car and slammed the door. A moment later the engine was running. She let in the clutch, and the car moved forward….
As she turned on to the London road, she changed into second speed … into third … top….