"I will not talk with you about it: you do not know the circumstances to which I refer. I request to see Mr. Wardour. I have no time to waste in useless altercation."
Mary was angry, and it did her good; it made her fitter to face the harder task before her.
That moment they heard the step of Godfrey approaching through a long passage in the rear. His mother went into the parlor, leaving the door, which was close to where Mary stood, ajar. Godfrey, reaching the hall, saw Mary, and came up to her with a formal bow, and a face flushed with displeasure.
"May I speak to you alone, Mr. Wardour?" said Mary. "Can you not say what you have to say here?"
"It is impossible."
"Then I am curious to know—"
"Let your curiosity plead for me, then."
With a sigh of impatience he yielded, and led the way to the drawing-room, which was at the other end of the hall. Mary turned and shut the door he left open.
"Why all this mystery, Miss Marston?" he said. "I am not aware of anything between you and me that can require secrecy."
He spoke with unconcealed scorn.