"Yes, you did! You hinted it, at all events. Go on. Tell me who it was."
"Even if I knew I should not tell you," says Rylton, who is now white with anger.
He had understood her hesitation of a moment since. He had known exactly what she wanted to say to him, and unfortunately the pricking of is conscience had only served to add fuel to the fire of his discontent towards her.
"Well, I'll tell you," says Tita, coming a step closer to him, her eyes blazing. "It was Mrs. Bethune. I know that she is no friend of mine. And I may as well say at once that I detest her. You may like her, but I don't, and I never shall. She's a beast!"
"Tita!"
Her husband stares at her aghast. The small form seems transfigured.
Has she grown?
"Yes—a beast! I don't care what you think. I'm not afraid of you—remember that! I was not even afraid of Uncle George. I shall never be afraid of anyone in all this wide, wide world!"
Suddenly her passion breaks down. Her arms fall to her sides, and she leans back against the end of her bed like a broken lily.
"Tita—if you would let me explain," says Rylton, who is overcome by her forlorn attitude, "I——"
"No." He would have laid his hands gently upon her pretty bare shoulders, but she repulses him. "I want no explanation; there isn't one."