She felt herself flushing with shame, but she answered lightly enough. "You shouldn't discuss secrets so near the breakfast-room, Mr. Verinder."
"I see. You listened ... and then you ran to your friend, the highgrader, with the news. That was good of you, Miss Dwight. I appreciate it—under the circumstances."
She knew he referred to the fact that she was his guest. To hear him put into words his interpretation of the thing she had done, with implications of voice and manner that were hateful, moved her to a disgust that included both him and herself.
"Thank you, Mr. Verinder—for all the kind things you mean and can't say."
She turned on her heel and walked to the end of the veranda. After a moment's thought he followed her.
"Have I said a word too much, Miss Dwight? You did listen to a private conversation you weren't meant to hear, didn't you? And you ran to your friend with it? If I'm wrong, please correct me."
"I daresay you're right. We'll let it go at that, if you please."
Verinder was irritated. Clearly in the right, he had allowed her to put him in the wrong.
"I'll withdraw listened, Miss Dwight. Shall we substitute overheard?"
Her angry eyes flashed into his cold, hard ones. "What would you expect me to do? You know what he did for Joyce and me. And he is Captain Kilmeny's cousin. Could I let him go to prison without giving even a warning?"