"Well?" said I.
She bent forward, and her face was that of the woman whom I had met in the rain and mud and stark reality of the war.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Chapter XX
If a glance could destroy, if Lady Auriol had been a Gorgon or a basilisk or a cockatrice, then had I been a slain Anthony Hylton.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
The far-flung gesture of her arm ending in outspread fingers might have been that of Elodie.
"Tell you what, my dear?" said I.
"The whole wretched tragedy. I came to you a year ago with my heart in my hand--the only human creature living who I thought could help me. And you've let me down like this. It's damnable!"
"An honourable man," said I, nettled, "doesn't betray confidences."