He threw back his head with a sound of scorn.
"Mrs. Fairmile! You don't mean to tell me, Daphne, to my face, that you ever believed any of the lies—forgive the expression—that you, and your witnesses, and your lawyers told in the States—that you bribed those precious newspapers to tell?"
"Of course I believed it!" she said fiercely. "And as for lies, it was you who began them."
"You believed that I had betrayed you with Chloe Fairmile?" He raised himself again, fixing his strange deep-set gaze upon her.
"I never said——"
"No! To that length you didn't quite go. I admit it. You were able to get your way without it." He sank back in his chair again. "No, my remark had nothing to do with Chloe. I have never set eyes on her since I left you at Heston. But—there was a girl, a shop-girl, a poor little thing, rather pretty. I came across her about six months ago—it doesn't matter how. She loves me, she was awfully good to me, a regular little brick. Some day I shall tell Herbert all about her—not yet—though, of course, he suspects. She'd serve your purpose, if you thought it worth while. But you won't——"
"You're—living with her—now?"
"No. I broke with her a fortnight ago, after I'd seen those doctors. She made me see them, poor little soul. Then I went to say good-bye to her, and she," his voice shook a little, "she took it hard. But it's all right. I'm not going to risk her life, or saddle her with a dying man. She's with her sister. She'll get over it."
He turned his head towards the window, his eyes pursued the white sails on the darkening blue outside.
"It's been a bad business, but it wasn't altogether my fault. I saved her from someone else, and she saved me, once or twice, from blowing my brains out."