Cara shrank from this bitter reference to the past.
“You can be very cruel, Eliot,” she said unsteadily.
“Cruelty breeds cruelty,” he replied with indifference. “Still, I’m beginning to think I was too hard on you, Cara, in the past. It seems finance plays an amazingly strong hand in the game of love. But it’s taken two women to teach me the lesson thoroughly”—with a short laugh.
“Two?”
“You—and Ann.”
“Ann! I don’t believe it!” The words burst from her with impulsive vehemence.
His face darkened.
“While I can believe no other. In fact”—heavily—“your poor little sin shows white as driven snow beside—hers.”
“You’re wrong. I’m sure you’re wrong,” insisted Cara. “I don’t know why you believe what you do—nor all that you believe. I don’t ask to know. It wouldn’t make any difference if you told me. I know Ann. And however black things looked against her, nothing would ever make me believe she was anything but dead straight.”
“Most touching faith!” jeered Eliot. “Unfortunately, I have a preference in favour of believing the evidence of my own senses.”