"I used to know the Lone Wolf well: a strange belief for him to hold!"
"But life had forged yet another bond between us . . ."
The vibrations of Liane's words died upon a suppliant silence. It grew long while in her hearing the pulsing of the engines aped the tempo of a funeral march. Lanyard made no move or sound. Vision tempered to the gloom and made keen by hunger saw his face, its salient lines picked out by gleams of deflected starlight, steadfast to the port, inscrutably set.
If he would not speak she must . . .
"I loved you well, and love comes of loving . . . of being loved . . ."
"You wish me to understand," Lanyard bluntly translated, "I became your lover."
"Yes."
"Yet you knew I loved Madame de Montalais—"
"You swore to me all that was finished."
"And you believed—?"