[But he hesitates.
SIR HARRY. [In spite of himself.] As you are here, there is something I want to get out of you. [Wishing he could ask it less eagerly.] Tell me, who was the man?
[The strange woman—it is evident now that she has always been strange to him—smiles tolerantly.
KATE. You never found out?
SIR HARRY. I could never be sure.
KATE. [Reflectively.] I thought that would worry you.
SIR HARRY. [Sneering.] It's plain that he soon left you.
KATE. Very soon.
SIR HARRY. As I could have told you. [But still she surveys him with the smile of Mona Lisa. The badgered man has to entreat.] Who was he? It was fourteen years ago, and cannot matter to any of us now. Kate, tell me who he was?
[It is his first youthful moment, and perhaps because of that she does not wish to hurt him.