What then is the secret between you and him ?" Claude continued grimly.

"What is your secret ?" "My secret!" Her passion dwindled under his eyes, under his words.
"Ay," Claude answered, "and his! His secret and yours.

What is the thing between you and him ?" he continued, his eyes fixed on her, "so dark, so weighty, so dangerous, you must needs for it suffer his touch, bear his look, be smooth to him though you loathe him?
What is it ?" "Perhaps--love," she muttered, with a forced smile.

But it did not deceive him.
"You loathe him!" he said.
"I may have loved him--once," she faltered.
"You never loved him," he retorted.

All the shyness of youth, all the bashfulness of man with maiden were gone.