He was evidently both distressed and perplexed. He took two or three hurried steps across the room, as if to give himself a little extra time to settle his words into the best form. But Dolly could not wait.
“Mr. Gowan,” she said, “what has that man been doing?”
He turned round and answered her.
“He has been passing himself off to your brother as an unmarried man,” he said.
She slipped back into her chair again, and wrung her hands passionately.
“And he is married?” she demanded. “Oh! how was it you did not know this?”
“Not one in ten of Mr. Gerald Chandos's friends know it,” he returned. “And I am only a chance acquaintance. It is not an agreeable story to tell, if what report says is true. Remember, it is only report as yet, and I will not vouch for it. It is said that the marriage was the end of a boyish folly, and that the happy couple separated by mutual consent six months after its consummation. The woman went to California, and Chandos has not seen her since, though he hears of her whereabouts occasionally.”
“And you are not quite sure yet that the report is true?” said Dolly.
“Not quite sure,” he replied; “but I wish I had greater reason to doubt it.”
Recurring mentally to the little scene she had witnessed on the street only an hour or so previously, and remembering Mollie's blushes and drooping eyes, and the look they had won from Mr. Gerald Chandos as he took her half-reluctant hand in his, Dolly bit her lips hard, feeling her blood grow hot within her. She waited just a minute to cool herself, and then spoke.