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“
Ah
,
”
said
Glennard
,
with
an
effort
at
lightness
;
but
his
irony
dropped
,
for
something
in
her
voice
made
him
feel
that
he
and
she
stood
at
last
in
that
naked
desert
of
apprehension
where
meaning
skulks
vainly
behind
speech
.
“
And
why
did
you
imagine
this
?
”
The
blood
mounted
to
his
forehead
.
“
Because
he
told
you
that
I
was
under
obligations
to
him
?
”
She
turned
pale
.
“
Under
obligations
?
”
“
Oh
,
don
’
t
let
’
s
beat
about
the
bush
.
Didn
’
t
he
tell
you
it
was
I
who
published
Mrs
.
Aubyn
’
s
letters
?
Answer
me
that
.
”
“
No
,
”
she
said
;
and
after
a
moment
which
seemed
given
to
the
weighing
of
alternatives
,
she
added
:
“
No
one
told
me
.
”
“
You
didn
’
t
know
then
?
”
She
seemed
to
speak
with
an
effort
.
“
Not
until
—
not
until
—
”
“
Till
I
gave
you
those
papers
to
sort
?
”
Her
head
sank
.
“
You
understood
then
?
”
