"I did not know about it," said Griggs. "Your cousin? I do not understand."
"My cousin—yes—Maria Braccio—Gloria's mother! You have just been talking about her—"
"I?" asked Griggs, bewildered.
Francesca stepped back from him, suddenly guessing that she had revealed Lord Redin's secret.
"Is it possible?" she asked in a low voice. "Oh, it is all a mistake!" she cried suddenly. "I have told you his story—oh, I am losing my head!"
"Come," said Griggs, authoritatively. "We must get out of the church, at all events, or we shall be locked in."
"Oh no!" answered Francesca. "There is always somebody here—"
"There is not. You must really come."
"Yes—but there is no danger of being locked in. Yes—let us walk down the nave. There is more light."
They walked slowly, for she was too much confused to hasten her steps. Her inexplicable mistake troubled her terribly. She remembered how she had warned Lord Redin not to tell her any secrets, and how seriously she, the most discreet of women, had resolved never to reveal what he had said. But the impression of his story had been so much more direct and strong than even the first words Griggs had spoken, that so soon as she had realized that the latter was speaking approximately of the same subject, she had lost the thread of what he was saying and had seemed to hear Lord Redin's dreadful tale all over again. She thought that she was losing her head.