John Morrison thoughtfully lit a cigarette and leaned against the mantelpiece, staring down at her.
"May I ask you one or two questions, Miss Frenton: questions which, though they may sound impertinent, are not intended in that spirit?"
"Yes." She looked up at him steadily. "But I don't promise to answer."
"How long ago did you meet Herbert Strongley?"
"About a year."
"And how long was it before you got engaged to him?"
She shifted a little in her chair.
"Not very long," she said at length.
He did not press the point: though a faint smile hovered for a moment on his lips.
"Not very long," he repeated, softly. "Are you quite sure, Miss Frenton—and this is a very important question—are you quite sure that you haven't made a mistake?"