“I have not seen it, madam,” replied he, more superbly than ever.
“I thank you, sir.”
She dropped him a stately, dignified curtsey, to which he responded with a profound bow. Then he turned again and resumed his walk. This was more than Joan could bear.
“How can you, Harry?” burst from her lips.
“Nay, ’tis I should ask that!” retorted Tregenna, who was back again by her side in a moment. “’Tis I should want to know how a woman can treat her lover as you have treated me this last five days!”
“They told me—they told me——” stammered Joan, who was now in tears.
He interrupted her quickly.
“Nay, then, if you are content to quarrel with me on account of what others tell you, without a word to me, ’tis time we should bid each other farewell, madam!”
“Oh, Harry, you are too hard, too cruel! And when ’tis your fault, all your fault! For Tom saw you with—with—her in your arms! You kissed her, once, twice, thri-i-i-ce! And—and when you told me you cared not for her! Nay, sir!” She drew herself erect, and looked at him with a challenge in her eyes.
“Deny it if you can. You know you dare not, you cannot!”