She mystified him so by her strange behavior that he forgot his pride, and again advanced toward her side.
"Kathleen, my love, my darling, speak to me, if only one word!" he cried, yearningly, passionately.
And finding her voice at last, she faltered to him, in a despairing tone:
"Did you ever—ever—know—a woman named—Fedora?"
"My God!" cried Ralph Chainey.
He flung up one hand to his brow and reeled backward from her side like one wounded to the death.
"So it is true?" Kathleen cried, in a hollow voice full of bitter anguish.
Ralph Chainey looked at her with sad eyes from which all the brightness had strangely faded.
"Who has told you?" he asked, in a dull voice.
"She told me herself," Kathleen answered, and shot him an indignant glance, pride coming to her rescue. There could no longer be any doubt of his guilt. His looks confessed it.