'I made it up long ago, Tregellan!'
The other looked at him, curiously, compassionately; with a touch of resentment at what he found his lack of subtilty. Then he said at last:
'I called it impossible; you force me to be very explicit, even cruel. I must remind you, that you are, of all my friends, the one I value most, could least afford to lose.'
'You must be going to say something extremely disagreeable! something horrible,' said the artist, slowly.
'I am,' said Tregellan, 'but I must say it. Have you explained to
Mademoiselle, or her uncle, your—your peculiar position?'
Sebastian was silent for a moment, frowning: the lines about his mouth grew a little sterner; at last he said coldly:
'If I were to answer, Yes?'
'Then I should understand that there was no further question of your marriage.'
Presently the other commenced in a hard, leaden voice.
'No, I have not told Marie-Yvonne that. I shall not tell her. I have suffered enough for a youthful folly; an act of mad generosity. I refuse to allow an infamous woman to wreck my future life as she has disgraced my past. Legally, she has passed out of it; morally, legally, she is not my wife. For all I know she may be actually dead.'