She sat up and twisted the offending braid into a rigid coil.
"Walter," she said, "_who_ is Lady Cayley ?" She noticed that the name waked him.
"Does it matter now?
Can't you forget her ?" "Forget her?
I know nothing about her.

I want to know." "Haven't you been told everything that was necessary ?" "I've been told nothing.

It was what I heard." There was a terrible stillness about him.

Only his breath came and went unsteadily, shaken by the beating of his heart.
She quieted her own heart to listen to it; as if she could gather from such involuntary motions the thing she had to know.
"I know," she said, "I oughtn't to have heard it.

And I can't believe it,--I don't, really." "Poor child! What is it that you don't believe ?" His calm, assured tones had the force of a denial.
"Walter--if you'd only say it isn't true--" "What Edith told you ?" "Edith?
Your sister?
No; about that woman--that you--that she--" "Why are you bringing all that up again, at this unearthly hour ?" "Then," she said coldly, "it _is_ true." His silence lay between them like a sword.
She had rehearsed this scene many times in the five hours; but she had not prepared herself for this.