Frank did not turn nor start as Windham had expected. One might have thought he did not hear. At length, however, he said slowly, "I suspected that--a little. But I want to know."
"I--can't tell you more," said the other brokenly.
"Who--who was her mother, Uncle Bob?"
"If you love her, Frank, don't ask that question."
The young man snapped a dry twig from a tree and broke it with a sort of silent concentration into half a dozen bits. "Then--it's true ... the tale heard round town! That you and--"
"Yes, yes," Windham interrupted, "Frank, it's true."
"The--procuress?"
"Frank! For God's sake!" Windham's fingers gripped his nephew's arm. "Don't let Maizie know. I've tried to live it down these twenty years...."
"Damn it, do you think I'd tell Aunt Maizie?"
"It's--I can't believe it yet! That you--"