He got to his feet and faced her.
"To what?"
"To you," she said, and looked at him straightly.
His face blanched so it seemed he must faint; he pressed his handkerchief to his lips and leant heavily against the window frame.
"Why did you woo me?" cried the Countess, at the high tide of nameless passion. "What was your honour then to dare to let me think I was all in all to you? Were you absolved because I was forced into a loveless marriage? But there is no need to say all this, you know what I mean."
"You are my brother's wife," said Marius hoarsely. "You are the Countess of Lyndwood."
"Is that fact paramount with you?" she mocked. "Oh, a man's honour!"
He seemed to catch at the word.
"Honour," he repeated; "my honour!" Then, "Which way, which way?" he cried.
She thought that he would say, "You do this from hatred to our house, because we turned our backs on you, that day at Lyndwood Holt," but his next words took her by surprise.