I don't judge the facts at all.

I leave them altogether to you; and you shall say what a man in my position ought to say to such a man as you have shown yourself." "No, I will say." The door into the adjoining room was flung open, and Agatha flashed in from it.
Her father looked coldly at her impassioned face.

"Have you been listening ?" he asked.
"I have been hearing--" "Oh!" As nearly as a man could, in bed, General Triscoe shrugged.
"I suppose I had, a right to be in my own room.

I couldn't help hearing; and I was perfectly astonished at you, papa, the cruel way you went on, after all you've said about Mr.Stoller, and his getting no more than he deserved." "That doesn't justify me," Burnamy began, but she cut him short almost as severely as she--had dealt with her father.
"Yes, it does! It justifies you perfectly! And his wanting you to falsify the whole thing afterwards, more than justifies you." Neither of the men attempted anything in reply to her casuistry; they both looked equally posed by it, for different reasons; and Agatha went on as vehemently as before, addressing herself now to one and now to the other.
"And besides, if it didn't justify you, what you have done yourself would; and your never denying it, or trying to excuse it, makes it the same as if you hadn't done it, as far as you are concerned; and that is all I care for." Burnamy started, as if with the sense of having heard something like this before, and with surprise at hearing it now; and she flushed a little as she added tremulously, "And I should never, never blame you for it, after that; it's only trying to wriggle out of things which I despise, and you've never done that.

And he simply had to come back," she turned to her father, "and tell me himself just how it was.
And you said yourself, papa--or the same as said--that he had no right to suppose I was interested in his affairs unless he--unless--And I should never have forgiven him, if he hadn't told me then that he that he had come back because he--felt the way he did.