“Then who is he?” I demanded. “What is his name?”
Chapter Twenty Eight.
On the Crooked Way.
She held her breath. Her hand trembled within my grasp. Then, after a moment, she faltered:
“He is not my lover. Is not my declaration sufficient?”
“No, it is not,” I responded harshly. “If he is nothing to you, as you allege, then why did you meet him secretly at night, and make an appointment to meet again after I had left Ryburgh?”
“Because I was forced to—because—”
“Because you have allowed that shabby adventurer to love you!” I interrupted. “Because you have played me false!”