"'Vera,' I said, 'sit down. I want to talk to you, to explain something so that in future we may understand each other. You see you are going to be my wife, and those who love should have as few secrets as possible. Now I feel sure that you have something on your mind, and I want you to tell it to me. Don't be afraid that I shall be angry.'
"'I don't know what you mean,' she answered. Her manner was half defiant, half frightened.
"'Should you have wished me to be present, though unseen, in the drawing-room last night, between ten and eleven?' I asked.
"She lost her presence of mind in a moment. A bright flush passed over her face and left it deadly white.
"'How mean!' she cried. 'You were outside looking through the window. I don't know what you think you saw. It is disgusting of you to have done such a thing.'
"'I was in bed,' I replied.
"'Then what on earth do you mean?'
"'I mean this, that last night a gross insult was offered to one I love, and that she accepted it, and what is more, accepted it willingly.'
"'Oh! I know you were looking. But I don't care if you did see, it was not my fault. I tried to prevent him, but he would do it, and I hate you now! Yes, I do! You are mean, and you tell lies!' Then she burst into a flood of tears.
"'Vera,' I said, placing my arm round her, 'I have told you no lie. If I tried to explain how I know all, yes, all that happened, far more than could have been seen through any window, you would simply not understand me. You say I spied upon you. How was it then that the shutters were not closed, and the blinds and curtains drawn as usual?'