"I heard," he said. His cheeks turned red. Was ever a man in a worse
position? The questioning grey eyes stared at him so coldly that he lost
his head. He wanted to apologise, to explain, yet he knew that he could
not explain. It was Marjorie who had brought him into this, but he must
respect the girl's secret, on which so much depended for her.

"Please answer me," Joan Meredyth said. "You heard Lady Linden advise
us, you and myself, to make up a quarrel that has never taken place;
you heard her--" She paused, a great flush suddenly stole over her face,
adding enormously to her attractiveness, but quickly as it came, it
went.

What could he say? Vainly he racked his brains. He must say something,
or the girl would believe him to be fool as well as knave. Ideas,
excuses, lies entered his mind, he put them aside instantly, as being
unworthy of him and of her, yet he must tell her--something.

"When--when I used your name, believe me, I had no idea that it was the
property of a living woman--"

"When you used my name? I don't understand you!"

"I claimed that I was married to a Miss Joan Meredyth--"

"I still don't understand you. You say you claimed that you were
married--are you married to anyone?"

"No!"