"Dear girl, can that weigh against me?" he asked, scarce above his breath. She moved from his touch with a gesture that sent the blood ringing back to brain and heart. The madness of the righteous anger ebbed, leaving him cool and observant.
"I must beg your pardon for intruding, and now I shall go," he said. "It was well worth the loss of a few thousands of pounds—to find the real nature of your love."
He passed her with squared shoulders and sneering lip, and strode briskly toward the door.
"Wait," she cried, "I do not understand you." Her voice contained a new note.
He turned on the threshold and bowed.
"You have known me long enough," he said.
"Yes," she replied. He stood in the doorway and stared at her.
"If I am dreaming, then wake me, dear. Surely you love me?"
His voice was tense. He moved as if to approach her again.
"I have learned of your other life—of your living lie," she cried, weakly.