“And the lady’s name?” he questioned in peremptory tones.
“Miss Bolton,” she answered with a visible effort. “I have recently learnt from unquestionable authority that you have been engaged to your cousin for some months.”
St. John started, pulled thoughtfully at his moustache for a moment, and then looking up sharply,—
“The name of your informant?” he asked.
“Never mind that,” Jill answered, “my informant was in a position to know. I have tried to but cannot doubt the assertion.”
“And yet you seem to find it easy enough to doubt mine,” he said.
She made no reply; and striding up to her he caught her by the shoulders and transfixed her with a gaze at once stern and reproachful.
“Speak,” he exclaimed. “I will know who is the lying, interfering mischief-maker who has spread such abominable reports about me.”
Jill swayed slightly in his grip, and her glance met his in wide-eyed questioning as though she would read his very soul.
“Ah!” she cried, “if it were false! if it were only false!”