'You haven't seen her?'
Sibyl evaded the question.
'Doesn't it seem to you rather strange,' she said, 'that the Rolfes should keep away from me—never call or write?'
Hugh's lips were set. When she repeated her inquiry more urgently, he gave a peevish answer.
'You cared very little about her at the last. And Rolfe—when a man marries—No, I won't see him just yet. I'll write to him when we're away.'
'It wouldn't astonish you'—Sibyl spoke in a thin voice, not quite under her control—'if you heard that Mrs. Rolfe had done her best and her worst against me?'
'She? Against you?'
'I don't know that it matters. You said "poor Rolfe". I should fancy he is poor, in every sense. As I have said so much, it's better to let you know all; it will show you that I am not exaggerating what I have gone through. People knew, of course, that she had called herself a friend of mine; and just then she came into notice—just enough to give her opportunities of being dangerous. Well, I heard before long that she was slandering me to all her acquaintances. Oh, she knew all about me! It was lucky for me I had a credulous husband. And it still goes on. She came here not long ago; yes, she came. She told me that she knew I was afraid of her, and she threatened me.'
Hugh sat staring like a paralytic.
'She? Rolfe's wife did this?'