She looked at him with a glance of loathing, and gathered herself together as though she felt contaminated by contact with the air he breathed.
"Go away at once. Your audacity is loathsome. Has it come to this with me, that I must bandy words with such a monster?"
"Mrs. Davenport," said he, in a tone of expostulation, "I am very far from saying I am blameless. I have committed crimes for which the punishment would be great, but I was not alone in my crimes. I did not invent them."
"And who invented the atrocious crime of last February? Who was in our house in Dulwich that night?"
"I read the case, and saw that Mr. Thomas Blake was at your house on that night."
"And where were you?"
"In Brussels. Good heavens!--you cannot imagine I had anything to do with that awful night! The idea is too monstrous to resent--to think of for a moment. I swear to you I was in Brussels at the time, and that I never did, or thought of doing, any injury to your husband. I loved him well; but I loved some one else better---better than all the world besides."
He did not look at her, but kept his eyes fixed on the sea.
She moved as if to go.
He heard the motion, and went to her and stood between her and the house.