'Enough dynamite in that,' he commented. 'Rather too much, isn't there, little girl?'
'Geoffrey, I know her story.'
He looked at her for the first time since Farnborough left the room.
'Whose story?'
'Miss Levering's.'
'Whose?' He crushed the rough note of his manifesto into his pocket.
'Vida Levering's.'
He stared at the girl, till across the moment's silence a cry of misery went out—
'Why did you desert her?'
'I?' he said, like one staggered by the sheer wildness of the charge. 'I?'