He moved at length, moved suddenly and disconcertingly, freeing one hand to turn her face quietly upwards.  She did not resist him, but she shrank as she met his eyes.  She fancied she had never seen him look so grim.

“And that was why you were crying?” he asked, deliberately searching her reluctant eyes.

“That was—­one reason,” she acknowledged faintly.

“Then there was something more than that?”

“Yes.”  She laid her hand pleadingly on his arm, and he released her.  “I will tell you,” she said tremulously, keeping her face upturned to his.  “At least, I will try.  But it’s very difficult because—­”

She began to falter under his look.

“Because,” he said slowly, “you have no confidence in me.  That I can well understand.  You married me more or less under compulsion, and when a wife is no more than a guest in her husband’s house, confidence between them, of any description, is almost an impossibility.”

He spoke without anger, but with a sadness that pierced her to the heart; and having so spoken he leant his arm upon the mantelpiece, turning slightly from her.

“I will tell you,” he said, his voice very quiet and even, “exactly what Mrs. Lockyard was hinting at.  Ten years ago I was engaged to a girl—­like you in many ways—­gay, impulsive, bewitching.  I was young in those days, romantic, too.  I worshipped her as a goddess.  I was utterly blind to her failings.  They simply didn’t exist for me.  She rewarded me by running away with Maurice Brandon.  I knew he was a blackguard, but how much of a blackguard I did not realize till later.  However, I didn’t trust him even then, and I followed them and insisted that they should be married in my presence.  Six months later I heard from her.  He had treated her abominably, had finally deserted her, and she was trying to get a divorce.  I did my best to help her, and eventually she obtained it.”  He paused a moment, then went on with bent head, “I never saw her after she gained her freedom.  She went to her people, and very soon after—­she died.”

Again he paused, then slowly straightened himself.

“I never cared for any woman after that,” he said, “until I met you.  As for Brandon, he kept out of my way, and I had no object in seeking him.  In fact, I took no interest in his doings till I found that you were in Mrs. Lockyard’s set.  That, I admit, was something of a shock.  And then when I found that you liked the man—­”

“Oh, don’t!” she broke in.  “Don’t!  I was mad ever to tolerate him.  Let me forget it!  Please let me forget it!”

She spoke passionately, and as if her emotion drew him he turned fully round to her.

“If you could have forgotten him sooner,” he said, with a touch of sternness, “you would not find yourself tied now to a man you never loved.”

The effect of his words was utterly unexpected.  She started as one stricken, wounded in a vital place, and clasped her hands tightly against her breast, crushing the flowers that drooped there.