"I am."
"Am I to take it that Mr Champion is alive?"
"So far as I know."
"So far as you know? That does not suggest very intimate--or very recent knowledge. When did you hear from him last?"
"I saw him twelve months ago."
"You saw him twelve months ago? That was not long before you came here. Why did he not accompany you when you came?"
"He couldn't."
"He couldn't? Why?"
"He was in prison."
"In--" He stopped, looked at her with, in his eyes, an altogether different expression; then, throwing his head back, seemed to be staring straight at the moon, as if he were endeavouring to read something which was written on her surface. Presently he spoke in an entirely altered tone of voice. "Now I understand, or, rather, now I begin to understand. It dawns on me that here is a position which will want some understanding." As if seized with sudden restlessness he began to pace to and fro, keeping to the same piece of ground, of which he seemed to be making mental measurements; she meanwhile, watching him, silent, motionless, as if she were waiting for him to pronounce judgment. After a while he broke into speech, while he still continued pacing to and fro. "Now I begin to see daylight everywhere; the meaning of the things which puzzled me. Why you seemed to take no interest in anything; why you were so fond of solitude; why, in the middle of a conversation, one found that your thoughts had strayed. The life you were living in public was not the one you were living to yourself. It's not nice to be like that. Poor child! And I have laughed at you, because I thought you were a character, and--you were. How many fools escape being kicked just at those moments when a kicking would do them good. It occurs to me, Mrs Champion--"