“Then you don’t love him! You have nothing to do with him and his forgeries?”
“Forgeries?” she cried, paralyzed even while she tried to free herself.
As they stood, he with one arm round her, she still with horror, Harry came in. He sprung upon his brother and tore the trembling girl out of his arms.
“Oh, is this true? Is it true? You heard what he said!” she cried, with a shudder.
“Is it a time to accuse me when I find you in another man’s arms?” he cried, fiercely.
“And by what right do you object to her being anywhere she pleases?”
“Pleases?”
“Yes. You swore to me two days ago that you did not know where Miss Lane lived. It was a lie!”
“It was not a lie. There is no such person as Miss Lane. This is Mrs. Harry Braithwaite, my wife!”