“If you’d meant what you’d said, you’d have called Lambart in. That would have answered your purpose very well. But I knew that you’d never do that. I knew you couldn’t.”
“I’m afraid I shall have less faith hereafter in woman’s intuition,” he returned. “I can keep you here, and I will. No other course is open to me.” A clock outside struck. “It’s just three,” he observed. “In four hours’ time a maid will go to your room and find it empty. It’s a long time till then, so why not make yourself as comfortable as you can? Please sit down.”
The girl sank into a chair more because she was suddenly conscious of her physical weakness than for the reason he offered it her in mocking courtesy.
“I can’t face it,” she cried hysterically; “the disgrace and humiliation! I can’t face it!”
“You’ve got to face it,” he said sternly.
“I can’t,” she repeated. “It’s horrible, it’s unfair—if you’ll let me go, I’ll promise you I won’t betray you.”
“You daren’t keep silent about me,” he answered. “How can I let you go?”
“I’m telling you the truth,” she said simply.
“Then tell me who sent you here,” he entreated her. “You know what it means to me; you can guess what it means to you. If you tell me, it may save us both.”
“I can’t!” she cried. “I can’t! Oh, please, please!”