"Yes."
Silence again. He frowned, and looked apprehensively at her, as if he were warding something off.
"And I was the younger woman," said Annette, "who left before Lady Jane arrived."
The colour rushed to his face.
"No," he said, with sudden violence, "not you. I always knew there was another woman, a young one, but—but—it wasn't you, Annette."
She was silent.
"It couldn't be you!"—with a groan.
"It was me."
His brown hands trembled as he leaned heavily upon his stick.