"Well, I do," said Mary with a spice of defiance. "In spite of
everything, I feel sorry that any one could so far forget himself as
Purdy did to-night."
"You'll be telling me next you have warmer feelings still for him!"
burst out Mahony. "Sorry for the crazy lunatic who, after all these
years, after all I've done for him and the trust I've put in him,
suddenly falls to making love to the woman who bears my name? Why, a
madhouse is the only place he's fit for."
"There you're unjust. And wrong, too. It . . . it wasn't as sudden as
you think. Purdy has been queer in his behaviour for quite a long time
now."
"What in Heaven's name do you mean by that?"
"I mean what I say," said Mary staunchly, though she turned a still
deeper red. "Oh, you might just as well be angry with yourself for being
so blind and stupid."
"Do you mean to tell me you were aware of something?" Mahony stopped
short in his perambulations and fixed her, open-mouthed.
"I couldn't help it.--Not that there was much to know, Richard. And I
thought of coming to you about it--indeed I did. I tried to, more than
once. But you were always so busy; I hadn't the heart to worry you. For
I knew very well how upset you would be."
"So it comes to this, does it?" said Mahony with biting emphasis. "My
wife consents to another man paying her illicit attentions behind her
husband's back!"
"Oh, no, no, no! But I knew how fond you were of Purdy. And I always
hoped it would blow over without .
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