“Evidently.”
“I am your husband.”
“A platitude.”
“I have a right to claim some explanation from you for this.”
She smiled very slightly, stretched out a white hand, and chose a chocolate from the box with purposeful deliberation.
“Do not pretend to be ingenuous,” she said; “there is no need for an exchange of confidences. The matter is simple enough; let us keep to crude facts. You have preferred a farm wench to your wife. I cannot see that any explanations are needed.”
Gabriel flushed for the moment, bit his lip, and relapsed into composure.
“I should be glad to know to whom you refer.”
“Please do not ape the simpleton.”
“Answer me this.”