"Dear Mrs. Hannaford, we have been friends so long. Trust me to understand you. Of course, of course I shall believe what you say!"
"A dreadful, a shameful thing has happened. How shall I tell you?" Her haggard face flushed scarlet. "My husband has given me notice that he is going to sue for a divorce. He brings a charge against me—a false, cruel charge! It came yesterday. I went to the solicitor whose name was given, and learnt all I could. I have had to hide it from Olga, and oh! what it cost me! At once I thought of you; then it seemed impossible to speak to you; then I felt I must, I must. If only you can believe me! It is—your brother."
Piers was overcome with amazement. He sat looking into the eyes which stared at him with their agony of shame.
"You mean Daniel?" he faltered.
"Yes—Daniel Otway. It is false—it is false! I am not guilty of this! It seems to me like a hateful plot—if one could believe anyone so wicked. I saw him last night. Oh, I must tell you all, else you'll never believe me—I saw him last night. How can anyone behave so to a helpless woman? I never did him anything but kindness. He has me in his power, and he is merciless."
A passion of disgust and hatred took hold on Piers as he remembered the meeting in Piccadilly.
"You mean to say you have put yourself into that fellow's power?" he exclaimed.
"Not willingly! Oh, not willingly! I meant only kindness to him. Yes, I have been weak, I know, and so foolish! It has gone on so long.—You remember when I first saw him, at Ewell? I liked him, just as a friend. Of course I behaved foolishly. It was my miserable life—you know what my life was. But nothing happened—I mean, I never thought of him for a moment as anything but an ordinary friend—until I had my legacy."
The look on the listener's face checked her.
"I begin to understand," said Piers, with bitterness.