"That is a lie—a lie," she cried.
"Oh, content you. You are all chastity. I do not doubt it. But you drove Harry away from you. You admitted your Waverton to intimacy—you let him hope—believe—bah, what does it matter? You were in his secrets. You knew he put bullies upon Harry. Now he has failed and you are in a fright and want your Harry again. Permit me, madame, not to admire you."
"What do you want of me?" Alison said miserably.
"I cannot tell. I want to know what I am to do with Harry. And you—you are another wound."
Alison shuddered. "For God's sake take me to him. I will content him."
"Yes. For how long?"
"Oh, I deserve it all. I cannot answer you. And yet you are wrong. I am not such as you think me. I have never had anything but contempt for Mr. Waverton. If he were not what he is, he must have known that. He came to me after I left Harry. He told me that he was having Harry spied upon. The moment he was gone I wrote to Harry and gave him warning and begged him come back to me. He has never answered me. And I—oh—am I to speak of Harry and me?"
"If you could I should not much believe you. From the first, madame, I have believed you."
"It was I who drove him away from me. I have been miserable for it ever since. I humbled myself."
Captain McBean held up his hand. "I still believe you. Pray, order your coach."