"Then--then--" Again the glorious flush came into her cheeks, but was
gone again, leaving her whiter, colder than before, only her eyes seemed
to burn with the fire of anger and contempt.

"I am beginning to understand, for some reason of your own, you used my
name, you informed Lady Linden that you--and I were--married?"

"Yes," he said.

"And it was, of course, a vile lie, an insolent lie!" Her voice
quivered. "It has subjected me to humiliation and annoyance. I do not
think that a girl has ever been placed in such a false position as I
have been through your--cowardly lie."

He had probably never known actual fear in his life, nor a sense of
shame such as he knew now. He had nothing to say, he wanted to explain,
yet could not, for Marjorie's sake. If Lady Linden knew how she had been
deceived, she would naturally be furiously angry, and the brunt of her
anger would fall on Marjorie, and this must not be.

So, silent, unable to speak a word in self-defence, he stood listening,
shame-faced, while the girl spoke. Every word she uttered was cutting
and cruel, yet she shewed no temper. He could have borne with that.

"You probably knew of me, and knew that I was alone in the world with no
one to champion me. You knew that I was poor, Mr. Alston, and so a fit
butt for your cowardly jest. My poverty has brought me into contact with
strange people, cads; but the worst, the cruellest, the lowest of all is
yourself! I had hoped to have found rest and refuge here for a little
time, but you have driven me out. Oh, I did not believe that anything so