“So—ye cast me off?” asked Glenlyon thickly.
She laughed magnificently.
“If you say that my lord bid you do what you have done—why then we do—cast you off, Glenlyon.”
“There are others know the truth.”
It was Delia spoke.
Lady Breadalbane glanced at her fiercely.
“You?” she said.
“I—and Jerome Caryl.”
The Countess fell back before the name and clutched at the lintel of the door; then recovered herself and laughed aloud.
“He is dead—your Caryl.”