"I've not told anybody about you yet," she said. "I've been hugging the secret for purposes of my own. I am a wicked woman, Susan. Upon my honour, if you hadn't existed, I'd have been obliged to invent you. If you hadn't come to me, I'd have searched the world for an imitation, from end to end. How he would laugh at me!—But we'll not talk about him—we couldn't bear it. Only we'll fight for him, as I said. We'll not let his enemies triumph and pretend that they broke his heart."
Her voice was quicker, charged with a passionate haste that hurried the words out before she could close her lips.
"You little pale thing," she said. "I am not a kissing woman ... but ... oh, you don't know what you are to me. Wait. I'll make you understand. There's a creature here who behaved shamefully to my boy ... to him. And now he is dead she goes about boasting, claiming him as her victim, hinting to all who will listen that he killed himself for love of her. It's not true.... You'll teach them it is not true!"
She stopped, controlling herself. In the hall outside there was the slight bustle of an arrival, and voices, muffled by distance, came faintly through. As suddenly as she had spoken, she checked her outburst of confidence, and picked up her knitting with a terrible little smile.
"I know who it is that's coming," she said grimly. "A woman, Susan—a woman who dresses in black, and prates of a misunderstanding."
They came in together, the man blinking a little after his ride in the twilight, approaching with a stiff gait and clinking spurs; the woman swimming triumphantly up the room.
"Dear Lady Henrietta!" she murmured, a ready quiver in her emotional Irish voice.
"How do you do, Julia?" said Lady Henrietta. She had recovered an extraordinary calm. "Did you and Rackham meet on the doorstep? I am pleased to see you both."
Her ominous quietness struck the man, more observant. His instinct had not disappointed him, that was clear; he marked her attitude with an inward chuckle. Something tremendous was toward.
"You are looking well, Aunt Henrietta," he said politely. "Do you mind my smoking? We had a tiring day, and I missed my only sandwich."