'Did you tell Kato?'
'Damn your intuition!' he said angrily.
She lashed at him then, making him feel guilty, miserable, ridiculous, though as he sat scowling over the sea—they were in their favourite place at the bottom of the garden, where under the pergola of gourds it was cool even at that time of the day—he appeared to her more than usually unmoved and forbidding.
After a long pause,—
'Julian, I am sorry.—I don't often apologise.—I said I was sorry.'
He looked coldly at her with his mournful eyes, that, green in repose, turned black in anger.
'Your vanity makes me ill.'
'You told Kato.'
'Jealousy!'