with me, or with anything in the world that concerns me?"

Darrow instantly perceived what dread suspicion again
possessed her, and the sense that it was not wholly
unjustified caused him a passing pang of shame. But it did
not turn him from his purpose.

"I'm an old friend of Mrs. Leath's. It's not unnatural that
Madame de Chantelle should talk to me."

She dropped the screen on the table and stood up, turning on
him the same small mask of wrath and scorn which had glared
at him, in Paris, when he had confessed to his suppression
of her letter. She walked away a step or two and then came
back.

"May I ask what Madame de Chantelle said to you?"

"She made it clear that she should not encourage the
marriage."

"And what was her object in making that clear to YOU?"

Darrow hesitated. "I suppose she thought----"

"That she could persuade you to turn Mrs. Leath against me?"

He was silent, and she pressed him: "Was that it?"
"That was it."