"Then, you see, I knew Mr. Wyndham, and he——" Another pause.
"What did Mr. Wyndham do?" It was better that she should talk about Mr. Wyndham than about Vincent.
"I don't know what he did, but he made me mad; he made me think I cared for him. He was so clever. You know I always adored clever people; and, well—nobody could call poor Vincent clever, could they?"
In spite of herself, Katherine's lip curled with scorn. But Audrey was too much absorbed in her confession to see it.
"I suppose that fascinated me. Then afterwards when Vincent took to those dreadful ways—whatever my feelings were, you know, Katherine, it was impossible."
Katherine could bear it no longer, but she managed to control her voice in answering. "Why do you tell me these things? Do you suppose I care to hear about your 'feelings'?—if you do feel."
"If I do feel? Kathy!"
"Well, why can't you keep quiet, now it's too late?"
"Because—because I wanted you to know that I loved him."
There was silence. Presently Audrey put one hand on Katherine's knee.