“You expected too much. You thought you had become a lady, and were disappointed when you found that you were not. Yes—I suppose when I told you the truth, it must have been a bit of a jag for you. That fool, Adolphe, wanted me to keep the truth from you. But what was the use?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “You were at least frank—perhaps the only occasion upon which you ever told me the truth.”
“The truth is generally unwelcome,” he laughed. “Lies are always pleasant.”
“To the liar.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have, in future, to lie to Bracondale.”
“I shall use my own discretion,” she responded. “Perhaps I shall confess.”
“And if so, what then?”
“I shall tell him that you entered here and stole my pearls.”
“How very generous that would be,” he laughed angrily. “And I wonder what Bracondale would think of you if you endeavoured to send your own husband to prison—eh?”