“Oh, Anne—Anne can look out for herself. What do I care for Anne?” he exclaimed harshly. “But you—you—you—and that man!” He dropped down into his armchair and hid his eyes again.
She waited a minute or two; then she ventured: “Don’t mind so much.”
He made no answer. At length he lifted his head, but without looking directly at her.
“It was—long ago?”
“Yes. Six years—eight years. I don’t know....” She heard herself pushing the date back farther and farther, but she could not help it.
“At a time when you were desperately lonely and unhappy?”
“Oh—not much more than usual.” She added, after a moment: “I don’t claim any extenuating circumstances.”
“The cad—the blackguard! I—”
She interrupted him. “Not that either—quite. When he first met Anne he didn’t know; didn’t know she was even related to me. When he found out he went away; he went away twice. She made him come back. She reproached me for separating them. Nothing could have stopped her except my telling her. And I couldn’t tell her when I saw how she cared.”
“No—” There was a slight break in the harshness of his voice.