"Certainly not, unless public opinion forces me to change it," she said defiantly. "My life has always been perfectly open and above board, not like that of my husband."
"Why did he change his name?" asked Beecot, eagerly—too eagerly, in fact, for she drew back.
"Why do you ask?" she inquired coldly.
Paul shrugged his shoulders. "An idle question, Mrs. Krill. I have no wish to force your confidence."
"There is no forcing in the matter," responded the woman. "I have taken quite a fancy to you, Mr. Beecot, and you shall know what I do."
"Pray do not tell me if you would rather not."
"But I would rather," said Mrs. Krill, bluntly; "it will prevent your misconception of anything you may hear about us. My husband's real name was Lemuel Krill, and he married me thirty years ago. I will be frank with you and admit that neither of us were gentlefolks. We kept a public-house on the outskirts of Christchurch in Hants, called 'The Red Pig.'" She looked anxiously at him as she spoke.
"A strange name."
"Have you never heard of it before?"
"No. Had I heard the name it would have remained in my memory, from its oddity."