She moved slowly across, and, sinking into the armchair near the fire, unbuttoned her long coat.
“No,” he said; “it’s hot in this room: take it off, or you won’t find the benefit of it when you leave. See how solicitous I am after your health;” and he laughed.
In silence she rose and allowed him to help her divest herself of the heavy garment.
“How charming you look!” he said. “I really don’t wonder that you captivate the hearts of men—those who don’t know you.”
“It seems that you’ve invited me here for the purpose of raking up all my past,” she cried, darting at him a fierce look. “I have accepted your invitation because you and I are old friends, because our interests are identical.”
“How?” he asked, puzzled.
“There is a certain episode in my career that must for ever remain a profound secret,” she said in a low but distinct tone. “And there is one in yours which, if revealed, would bring you to disgrace, to ruin—nay, to death.”
He started, and his dark face paled beneath its bronze of travel.
“What do you mean?” he cried, standing astride before her, his back to the fire, his arms folded resolutely.
“What I have said!”