"Oh yes, you do. It's best to speak plainly. I'm afraid Frank has been leading you to believe that he's in love with you——."
"Violet!" broke in Wargrave angrily. "Please don't go on. You've no right to say such things."
She smiled sweetly on him.
"Yes, I have, Frank. You know, my dear boy, that you've got pretty ways with women—I fear he's rather a flirt, Miss Benson—that you are apt to make some of them think you mean more than you do."
"What absurd nonsense!" he cried, more angrily still. "Please stop, I beg of you."
"No, Frank, it is only right that I should warn Miss Benson." She turned to the girl. "He hasn't told you, I'm sure, that he's not free to marry you or any other girl."
Wargrave sprang up.
"I've told her everything about us, Violet," he protested. "I ask you as a favour to drop the subject."
The girl sat as if turned to stone while Mrs. Norton went on:
"You are young, my dear, and can't know much about men. I suppose you've lived in the jungle all your life. Now, a little bird has told me you've let yourself get too fond of Frank—oh, he's very charming, I know, and this playing at nursing a poor wounded hero is a dangerous game. But I'm going to tell you plainly that Frank is pledged to me. He has asked me to leave my husband for him, and I've consented; so there's no use your trying to catch him, my dear. You're too late."