"Oh, I'm quite aware of it," with a careless wave of her hand. "And as to Hermia's wisdom—life has taught me this—that a woman may be clever, she may be intuitive, she may be skillful, but she's never wise. And so I say—I'm shocked, John Markham, outraged and shocked beyond expression."
"Oh, you're the limit, Olga," he blurted out.
"Simply because I adhere to the traditions of my sex, because I adhere to the memory of my friendships. I like you, John Markham, your simplicity has always appealed to me. And now that you add gallantry to your more sober charms I confess you're quite irresistible."
Markham stopped short.
"I can't have you talking like this," he said quietly. "I don't mind what you say of me, of course, but your choice of words is not fortunate. Miss Challoner and I—"
"Spare your breath," she said, turning on him swiftly. "I'm no fool. I've lived in the world. If Hermia Challoner chooses to lay herself open to criticism that's her lookout. I'll say what I please of her. She has earned that retribution. Talk as you will of your own virtues and hers you'd never succeed in convincing anyone of your innocence—me least of all. What's the use of beating around the bush. I can see through a millstone—if it has a hole in it. Hermia Challoner—"
"Silence!" His fingers gripper her arm and she stopped, ready to scream with the pain of it. "You're insulting the woman I love. Do you hear?" he whispered through set lips. "I'll hear no more of it here—or elsewhere? We traveled together, that is all. My God—that you should dare!" He stopped suddenly, peering through the dusk at her face which still smiled, though the pain of her arm gave her agony, and then he relaxed with a laugh. "You don't mean it, I know. It isn't worthy of you. Why, Olga, you are her friend. You know her intimately—body and soul. You can't believe it. You don't—"
"I do," fiercely. "I do believe it—more's the pity."
They had stopped and were facing each other, bayonets crossed. The city roared about them, but they did not hear it. He dominated her, masterful. She fought back silently, a thing of nerves and passion only, but she did not flinch, though he had already wounded her mortally.
"Lie, if you like to me, John Markham. Lie to me. It's your duty.
Lie like a gentleman. But you can't make me believe you. I'm no fool.
I'll say what I like of her—or of you, when I choose, where I
choose—"