"Then he lied!" said Chris fiercely.
Aunt Philippa said "Indeed!" with raised eyebrows.
Chris's hands clenched unconsciously. "He lied!" she repeated. "We are not friends! We never could be! I—I hate the man!"
"Then you know him well enough for that?" said Aunt Philippa.
Chris sprang to her feet with hot cheeks and blazing eyes. "Aunt Philippa, you have no right—you and Mrs. Pouncefort—to—to talk me over and discuss my acquaintances!"
"My dear child," said Aunt Philippa, "all that passed between us was a remark made by Mrs. Pouncefort to the effect that one of her guests, Captain Rodolphe—an old friend of yours whom she believed you had originally met at Valpré—had just returned to Paris. What led to the remark I do not remember. But naturally the name recalled certain regrettable circumstances to my mind, and I felt it my duty to ask if you had been quite candid with Trevor upon the subject. I am sincerely grieved to know that my suspicion in this respect was but too well founded."
"He was not the man I knew at Valpré" burst forth Chris, with passionate vehemence. "You may believe it or not; it is the truth!"
"Then, my dear," said Aunt Philippa, with the calmness of unalterable conviction, "there must have been two men who enjoyed that privilege."
Chris broke into a wild laugh—a laugh that had been struggling for utterance for the past hour.
"Two! Why, there were a dozen at least, some soldiers, some fishermen!
Ask Trevor! He can tell you all about them—if he thinks it worth while!"