Her face was flushed, her eyes brilliant with anger.

“I mean that I am not a fool, though I was for a time.  You took me in—­I am not blaming you”—­he paused—­“not blaming you.  You were only a girl, straight out of school.  You didn’t understand things, and the man—­”

“What—­do—­you—­mean?” she whispered.

“You left Miss Skinner’s, said you were going to Australia, didn’t you?  But you didn’t go.  Oh no, you didn’t go!  You know best where you went, but there’s no proof of any marriage at Marlbury or Morchester.  Now—­now do you begin to understand?”

She did understand, a sense of horror came to her, horror and shame that this man should dare—­dare to think evil of her!  She felt that she wanted to strike him.  She saw him as through a mist—­his hateful face, the face she wanted to strike with all her might, and yet she was conscious of an even greater anger, a very passion of hate and resentment against another man than this, against the man who had subjected her to these insults, this infamy.  She gripped her hands hard.

“You—­you will leave this house.  If you ever dare to return I will have you flung out—­you hear me?  Go, and if you ever dare—­”

“No, no you don’t!” he said.  “Wait a moment.  You can’t take me in now!” He laughed in her face.  “If I go I’ll go all right, but you’ll never hear the end of it.  You’re someone down here, aren’t you?  I have heard about you.  You’re a Meredyth, and the Meredyths used to hold their heads pretty high about here.  But if you aren’t careful I’ll get talking, and if I talk I’ll make this place too hot to hold you.  You know what I mean.  I hate threatening you, Joan, only you force me to do it.”  His voice altered.  “I hate threatening, and you know why.  It is because I love you, and I am willing to marry you—­in spite of everything, you understand?  In spite of everything!”

Joan threw out her hand and grasped at the edge of the table.

“My friend out there—­am I to call for him?  Are you driving me to do that?  Shall I call him now?”

“If you like,” Slotman said.  “If you do, I’ll have something to tell him of a marriage that never took place in June, nineteen eighteen, and of a man who came to my office to see you, and offered to marry you—­as atonement.  Oh yes, I heard—­trust me!  I don’t let interviews take place in my offices that I don’t know anything about!”

He was silent suddenly.  There was that in her face that worried him, frightened him in spite of himself—­a wild, staring look in her eyes; the whiteness of her cheeks, the whiteness even of her lips.  There was a tragic look about her.  He had seen something like it on the stage at some time.  He realised that he might be goading her too far.

“I’ll go now,” he said.  “I’ll go and leave you to think it all out.  You can rely on me not to say anything.  I shan’t humble you, or talk about you—­not me!  A man don’t run down the girl he means to make his wife, and that’s what I mean—­Joan!  In spite of everything, you understand, my girl?” He paused.  “In spite of everything, Joan, I’ll still marry you!  But I’ll come back.  Oh, I’ll come back, I—­” He paused.  He suddenly remembered the denuded state of his finances, yet it did not seem an auspicious moment just now to ask her for financial help.