"Yes. Who told you?"
He made no answer.
"Walter, was it Lady Frances Hope?"
"What does that matter?"
"It was Lady Frances?"
He put his hand wearily over his eyes.
"If you wish to know, it was."
"I guessed so. I always hated her. The other day, as we drove from Paddington after seeing Clodagh off, we passed her in the Park with Valentine Serracauld. He must have seen or guessed, or heard from Deerehurst—and told her. He is an enemy of Clo's, too, since the time at Tuffnell.
"Oh, Walter!" She turned suddenly, and looked at him—"Walter, have you ever really known Clodagh?"
The pain and question in her voice broke through his wounded self-esteem.