His face altered. He had not been prepared to hear this thing and he was stunned.
"Ferdinand is an awful possibility to contemplate there at Ardayre, if you have no son—" She went on, trying to be calm, "but do you not think that you might have told me? Surely a woman has the right to select the father of her child."
John could not answer her. He covered his face with his hands.
"You see it is all pitiful," she continued, her voice deep and broken with almost a sob in it. "Denzil is so like you—it was an easy transition to find that I loved him—because I was only loving the imaginary you I had made for myself. I cannot explain myself and do not make any excuse. There is something in me, whenever I think of the baby, that draws me to Denzil and makes me remember that night. John, we must just face the situation and try to find some way to avoid as much pain as we can. I hate to think it is hurting you, too."
"Did Denzil tell you this?" his voice was icy cold.
"No—it came to me suddenly when I heard him say a word."
"'Sweetheart'!" and now John's eyes flashed. "He called you again
'Sweetheart'!"
"No, he did not—he used the word simply in speaking of a picture—but I recognised his voice then immediately—it is a little deeper than yours."
"When did you see Denzil?"
She told him the exact truth about their meeting and his coming to
Ardayre, and how Denzil had endeavoured to keep his word.