"I can throw no light at all," she said. "It has come like a
thunderbolt and I still find my mind refusing to accept the story
that they have brought to me. I cannot think about it--I cannot bear
to think about it; and if I believed it, I should go mad. My husband
is my life."

"Sit down and give me some account of yourself and Mr. Pendean. You
cannot have been married very long."

"Four years."

He showed astonishment.

"I am twenty-five," she explained, "though I'm told I do not look so
much as that."

"Indeed not; I should have guessed eighteen. Collect your thoughts
now and just give me what of your history and your husband's you
think most likely to be of use."

She did not speak for a moment and Brendon, taking a chair, drew it
up and sat with his arms upon the back of it facing her in a casual
and easy position. He wanted her to feel quite unconstrained.

"Just chat, as though you were talking of the past to a friend," he
said. "Indeed you must believe that you are talking to a friend, who
has no desire but to serve you."

"I'll begin at the beginning," she answered. "My own history is
brief enough and has surely little bearing on this dreadful thing;