Jeffray flushed slightly and bowed to her. For the moment there was an uncomfortable and unnerving pause. Jilian was playing irritably with her fan, an indescribable expression of restrained impatience on her face.
“Well, sir, have you nothing to say for yourself?”
Jeffray appeared to straighten his body, brace back his shoulders for the inevitable confession. He looked straight at Jilian, as though compelling himself to the uttermost candor.
“I have something to tell you, Jilian,” he said.
Miss Hardacre was alert on the instant, an unenviable glint in her eyes, one satin slipper tapping on the floor.
“Ah, yes, Richard, I know quite well what you are going to say to me. And so you think, sir, that you can toss me aside like a soiled shoe!”
A shadow as of pain passed across Jeffray’s face.
“Jilian! Believe me, it is no easy thing for me to speak of what has been working in my mind.”
The lady tossed her head, sneered till her teeth showed, and then broke out into a titter.
“And so, Richard, you find that you have been mistaken.”