"And she," says Marian furiously, "what does she remember? You may forget all old ties, if you will; but she—does she forget?"
"Forget what?"
Mrs. Bethune laughs softly, sweetly, wildly.
"Are you blind? Are you mad? Can you see nothing?" cries she, her soft, musical voice now a little harsh and strained. "That cousin—have you seen nothing there?"
"You are alluding to Hescott?"
"Yes—to him, and—Tita!"
"Tita?" His brow darkens. "What are you going to say of her?"
"What you"—deliberately—"do not dare to say, although you know it—that she is absolutely depraved!"
"Depraved!"
"There—stand back!" She laughs, a strange laugh. She has shaken herself free from him. "Fancy your taking it like that!" says she. She is laughing still, but panting; the pressure of his hands on her arms is still fresh. "And have you not seen for yourself, then? Is it not open to all the world to see? Is no one talking but me? Why, her flirtation with her cousin is common talk."