It was a short hundred yards, and there were many abroad in the graveled walks: lovers in pairs, and groups of young people pensive or chattering. So it was not until they stood on the very battlements of the western cliff that they were measurably alone.
"Has no one told you what happened last March—on the day of the ice storm?" she asked coldly.
"No."
"Don't you know it without being told?"
"Of course, I don't; why should I?"
His angry impassiveness shook her resolution. It seemed incredible that the most accomplished dissembler could rise to such supreme heights of seeming.
"I used to think I knew you," she said, faltering, "but I don't. Why don't you despise hypocrisy and double-dealing as you used to?"
"I do; more heartily than ever."
"Yet, in spite of that, you have—oh, it is perfectly unspeakable!"
"I am taking your word for it," he rejoined gloomily. "You are denying me what the most wretched criminal is taught to believe is his right—to know what he is accused of."