"Then you yourself, monsieur—"
"I knew it from Calabressa."
"Ah, my old friend Calabressa! And he was here, in London, and he saw my Natalie. Perhaps—"
She paused for a second.
"Perhaps it was he who sent the message. I heard—it was only a word or two—that my daughter had found a lover."
She regarded him. She had the same calm fearlessness of look that dwelt in Natalie's eyes.
"You will pardon me, monsieur. Do I guess right? It is to you that my child has given her love?"
"That is my happiness," said he. "I wish I were better worthy of it."
She still regarded him very earnestly, and in silence.