He winced a little, and his face changed to a dusky red.
“I said more than I meant to say. But what I said, after all, was right enough. I know more about you than I think you guess. I know about that fellow, that—what’s his name?—Alston—who came. I know why he came.”
“You are a friend of his, perhaps? I am not surprised.”
“I never saw him before in my life, but I know all about him—and you—all the same. He was willing to act fairly to you after all, and—”
“What is this to do with you?” she asked.
“A lot!” he said thickly. “A lot! Look here!” He took another step towards her. “Last night I behaved like a mad fool. I—I said more than I meant to say. I—I saw you, and I thought of that fellow—and—and you, and it drove me mad!”
“Why?” She was looking at him with calm eyes of contempt, the same look that she had given to Hugh Alston at their last meeting.
“Why—why?” he said. “Why?” He clenched his hands. “You know why, you know I love you! I want you! I’ll marry you! I’ll dig a hole and bury the past in it—curse the past! I’ll say nothing more, Joan. I swear before Heaven I’ll never try and dig up the past again. I forgive everything!”
“You—you forgive everything?” Her eyes blazed. “What have you to forgive? What right have you to tell me that you forgive—me?”
“I can’t let you go, I can’t! Joan, I tell you I’ll never throw the past in your face. I’ll forget Alston and—”