“Then—it is true?”
“I shall not deny it—if you care to think so you may.”
The look of aversion that was so at variance with her soft face sprang into her eyes.
“Is that your answer? You will not deny it?”
“No,” he said indifferently, “neither to you nor to any other.”
“They will ruin you for it,” she cried breathing quickly.
His eyes flashed; he thought she would had she dared have finished her sentence, “and I shall be free.”
“They may try,” he said. “It will interest you, will it not, madam?”
She flung up her head in a desperate manner.
“It interests me more to know whether you are or are not the infamous wretch these people paint you.”