"I have come," I said somewhat shamefacedly, "to explain."
"And apologise?"
"Yes, to apologise. I made a hideous mistake. I have suffered for it as much as you could wish."
"Wish you to suffer!" She flung away her cigarette. Her dark eyes opened wide in unassumed surprise. And that curious light of pity, which I had so often wondered at, came into them. "I am very sorry if you have suffered," she said, with convincing earnestness.
"How could I doubt you? Senseless fool that I was to suppose for one moment that you approved of what you could not choose but know—"
At this her face clouded.
"I am afraid you are still in error. What opinion have you formed which alters your estimate of me?"
"The only opinion possible: that you have unwillingly learned the secret of your brother's Society; but, like myself—you see no way to—to—"
"To what purpose?"
"To destroy it."