“That what, pray?” I demanded coldly, seeing that she paused.
“That you suspect—that you can believe—that——”
She paused again; then she added pleadingly—
“Oh, George, you would never do me such a wrong!”
“I have done you no wrong,” I replied. “You, on the other hand, have disobeyed me?”
“How?”
“I forbade you to entertain that man in my house.”
“He came unexpectedly. Indeed, indeed, I wish he had not come.”
She looked so pretty and so despairing, that I should have straightway forgiven her, had I not suddenly called to mind the conversation in the drawingroom. Women are strange creatures.
At that moment, I am certain she fervently believed that she was innocent, and I cruel. And yet.... I knew, by her humility and by her sorrow, that she partially reproached herself for having awakened my anger.