She sat irresponsive.
‘You were a brave girl. You consented to my going away because it seemed best, and I took advantage of your sincerity. Often enough that last look of yours has reproached me. I wonder how I had the heart to leave you alone.’
Nancy raised herself, and said coldly:
‘It was what I might have expected. I had only my own folly to thank. You behaved as most men would.’
This was a harder reproach than any yet. Tarrant winced under it. He would much rather have been accused of abnormal villainy.
‘And I was foolish,’ continued Nancy, ‘in more ways than you knew. You feared I had told Jessica Morgan of our marriage, and you were right; of course I denied it. She has been the cause of my worst trouble.’
In rapid sentences she told the story of her successive humiliations, recounted her sufferings at the hands of Jessica and Beatrice and Samuel Barmby. When she ceased, there were tears in her eyes.
‘Has Barmby been here again?’ Tarrant asked sternly.
‘Yes. He has been twice, and talked in just the same way, and I had to sit still before him—’
‘Has he said one word that—?’