“No—I—we were not acquainted,” she replied, endeavouring to remain calm, at the same time passing her slim hand across her blanched face.
Her breast heaved convulsively, and her limbs trembled. But it was only for a moment.
“Strange that you did not know him,” Hugh said in a tone of distrust.
“What caused you to think that he and I were friends?” she asked, rather haughtily, bracing herself up with an effort.
He hesitated. He was on the point of telling her of his discovery and demanding an explanation, but he decided that such a course might be indiscreet.
“Well,” he replied, “I had reason for believing so.”
“What was your reason?” she inquired, breathless with anxiety, as if half fearing his reply.
He had determined not to tell her the truth.
“Oh, a very foolish one,” replied he, with a laugh. “It was a mere fancy.”
“Only a fancy,” she said dreamily. “Are you sure it was nothing more?”