"That is good," said Eva. "But naturally I wanted to know. To return—why did you not warn me?"
Lord Hayes found that things were not going exactly as he had foreseen.
"I did not think it would be of any use to warn you," he said at length.
"Then, as you have no suspicions whatever of me, what purpose is served by his going away?"
"His presence here, under this roof, is an insult to you and me."
"Yet you did not warn me," said Eva. "It seems to me that you have cancelled the insult to yourself. Shall I tell you exactly what has happened, or do you know it all?"
"I know enough," he said.
"Possibly, from your point of view. But I am afraid you must have left your box before the end. The end was important. How much did you hear exactly? However, it doesn't matter. He said something—well, extremely ill-judged, and I told him he had mistaken me altogether. I laughed as well. Did you hear me laugh? I said I had not the slightest doubt of his devotion, but that I did not feel the least inclined to accept it. I don't appreciate devotion, except my husband's, of course."
Eva waited a moment. A refined cruelty waits a little every now and then for the full effect of the pain to be felt.