"It's no use arguing about it. My mind is made up. Oh, if only you would go away and leave me!"
For a moment there was profound silence, then Chris' tall figure swayed a little towards her, and he caught her arms in a grip that hurt.
"Who told you? And what do you know?" She hardly recognized his voice in its choked passion. "It's damned lies, whatever it is! I swear to you if I never speak again . . ."
She turned her face away with a little disdainful gesture.
"I don't want to hear—it's all so useless. I've said that I don't blame you—and I mean it. You're quite free to love whom you like."
He broke into rough laughter.
"Love! You're talking like a child! Who's been telling you such infernal lies? . . . Was it Dorothy herself?" She did not answer, and he shook her in his rage and despair. She answered then, breathlessly:
"No."
"Who then?" He waited. "Mrs. Heriot?" he demanded.
She looked at him scornfully.