She cursed herself for a fool. As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night. ‘Damn you, what’s the matter with you?’ he snapped in frustration. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. ‘Sit down, won’t you?’ He crossed back to Roding and said low-voiced. I believe I have always been in love with you. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. The man was mad to marry me.
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