'Percy! I had not a suspicion of mischief.'
'You went straight to this man?'
'Not thinking...'
'You sold me to a journalist!'
'I thought it was a secret of a day. I don't think you—no, you did not tell me to keep it secret. A word from you would have been enough. I was in extremity.'
Dacier threw his hands up and broke away. He had an impulse to dash from the room, to get a breath of different air. He stood at the window, observing tradesmen's carts, housemaids, blank doors, dogs, a beggar fifer. Her last words recurred to him. He turned: 'You were in extremity, you said. What is the meaning of that? What extremity?'
Her large dark eyes flashed powerlessly; her shape appeared to have narrowed; her tongue, too, was a feeble penitent.
'You ask a creature to recall her acts of insanity.'
'There must be some signification in your words, I suppose.'
'I will tell you as clearly as I can. You have the right to be my judge. I was in extremity—that is, I saw no means... I could not write: it was ruin coming.'