He hesitated a little.
"You know," he said. "I'm an awfully prudent chap, but once or twice in my life I have lost my head. When I went to America three years ago, I was only fit to be clapped into a strait-waistcoat. Of course, I did the first mad thing that came into my head."
There was a touch of some old bitterness in his voice then, and a sort of retrospective contempt.
"It's a grim fact, that," he said. "It can't be got over. I don't know what possessed me;—but there was a marriage."
"She is very beautiful," said Susan, uttering her own wandering thought. She did not know why.
"Who?" said Barnaby. "Oh,—yes. She was like somebody I knew."
There was silence between them. Then the man laughed.
"It was one of those unaccountable acts of temporary madness," he said. "We're all guilty of such at times. Did she tell you why we fell out? How she mistook me for a sort of prince in disguise, and turned on me afterwards, as furious as I was—disillusioned? Don't let's talk about that. We have our own problem to consider."
"Yes," said the girl, catching her breath.
"I am afraid," he said gravely, "we must keep it up for a bit."