Anne’s patience—so firmly and admirably preserved thus far—began to fail her at last.
“Take care, Mrs. Glenarm!” she said, still struggling with herself. “I am not naturally a patient woman. Trouble has done much to tame my temper—but endurance has its limits. You have reached the limits of mine. I have a claim to be heard—and after what you have said to me, I will be heard!”
“You have no claim! You shameless woman, you are married already. I know the man’s name. Arnold Brinkworth.”
“Did Geoffrey Delamayn tell you that?”
“I decline to answer a woman who speaks of Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn in that familiar way.”
Anne advanced a step nearer.
“Did Geoffrey Delamayn tell you that?” she repeated.
There was a light in her eyes, there was a ring in her voice, which showed that she was roused at last. Mrs. Glenarm answered her, this time.
“He did tell me.”
“He lied!”