She drew a little nearer. Her fingers fastened quivering upon his coat.
"Don't be too kind to me, Vivian," she said, her voice trembling. "It—it isn't good for me."
He took her by the wrists and drew her hands away.
"You want to tell me something," he said. "What is it?"
She glanced upwards, meeting his look with sudden resolution.
"You asked me this afternoon why I was crying," she said. "And I—I lied to you. You asked me, too, what Mrs. Lockyard said to me. And I lied again. I will tell you now, if—if you will listen to me."
Caryl was still holding her wrists. There was a hint of sternness in his attitude.
"Well?" he said quietly. "What did she say?"
"She said"—Doris spoke with an effort—"she said, or rather she hinted, that there was an old grudge between you and Major Brandon, a matter with which I was in no way concerned, an affair of many years' standing. She said that was why you followed him up and—thrashed him that night. She implied that I didn't count at all. She made me wonder if—if—"—she was speaking almost inarticulately, with bent head—"if perhaps it was only to satisfy this ancient grudge that you married me."
Her words went into silence. She could not look him in the face. If he had not held her wrists so firmly she would have been tempted to turn and flee. As it was, she could only stand before him in quivering suspense.