Пробный камень

XIII

           

           “Isthatwhatyouimply?”hepressedher.

           “No,”sheansweredwithsuddendirectness.“Inoticedsometimeagothatyouseemedtodislikehim,butsincethen—”

           “Well—sincethen?”

           “I’veimaginedthatyouhadreasonsforstillwishingmetobeciviltohim,asyoucallit.”

           “Ah,”saidGlennard,withaneffortatlightness;buthisironydropped,forsomethinginhervoicemadehimfeelthatheandshestoodatlastinthatnakeddesertofapprehensionwheremeaningskulksvainlybehindspeech.

           “Andwhydidyouimaginethis?”Thebloodmountedtohisforehead.“BecausehetoldyouthatIwasunderobligationstohim?”

           Sheturnedpale.“Underobligations?”

           “Oh,don’tlet’sbeataboutthebush.Didn’thetellyouitwasIwhopublishedMrs.Aubyn’sletters?Answermethat.”

           “No,”shesaid;andafteramomentwhichseemedgiventotheweighingofalternatives,sheadded:“Noonetoldme.”

           “Youdidn’tknowthen?”

           Sheseemedtospeakwithaneffort.“Notuntil—notuntil—”

           “TillIgaveyouthosepaperstosort?”

           Herheadsank.

           “Youunderstoodthen?”

           “Yes.”

           Helookedatherimmovableface.“Hadyoususpected—before?”wasslowlywrungfromhim.

           “Attimes—yes—”Hervoicedroppedtoawhisper.

           “Why?Fromanythingthatwassaid—?”

           Therewasashadeofpityinherglance.“Noonesaidanything—noonetoldmeanything.”Shelookedawayfromhim.“Itwasyourmanner—”

           “Mymanner?”

           “Wheneverthebookwasmentioned.

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