"Rachel—Rachel and Breton?"
The Duchess watched him with amusement. "Exactly. I have the surest information——"
"What does your—information—say?"
He hated her at that moment as he had never hated her before.
"It says—and I know that it is true—that for more than a year now they have been meeting and corresponding—The other day Rachel went to tea with him—alone. Was with him alone for some time—I'm sure that Roddy knows nothing of this——"
"It's impossible—impossible! Rachel is the soul of honour——"
"I know that you have always thought so. But what more likely? Their feeling about myself would, alone, be enough...."
But he would not let her see how hardly he was taking it. He deprived her of her triumph, did not even question her as to what she would do with it, turned the conversation into other channels, and left her at last—seeming there, amongst her candles, with her nose and thin hands, like some old bird of most evil omen.