“You are.  Who dares to say that you are not?”

“No one—­as yet,” she replied pointedly.

“What do you mean by that?” he demanded, flushing through his fair skin.

“I mean that if you met me in the ordinary way, and behaved to me as an ordinary man, people would not talk.  But you shun my society, and even when I am at The Manor, you do not come near because of my presence.”

“It is so hard to be near you and yet, owing to your marriage, so far from you,” muttered the man savagely.

“If it is hard for you, think how hard it must be for me,” said the woman vehemently, her passion coming to the surface.  “People talk of the way in which you avoid me, and hint that we love one another still.”

“It is true!  Agnes, you know it is true!”

“Need the whole world know that it is true?” cried Agnes, rising, with a gust of anger passing over her face.  “If you would only come to The Manor, and meet me in London, and accept Hubert’s invitations to dinner, people would think that our attachment was only a boy and girl engagement, that we had outgrown.  They would even give me credit for loving Hubert—­”

“But you don’t?” cried Lambert with a jealous pang.

“Yes, I do.  He is my chosen husband, and has carried out his part of the bargain by freeing many of Garvington’s estates.  Surely the man ought to have something for his money.  I don’t love him as a wife should love her husband, not with heart-whole devotion, that is.  But I give him loyalty, and I respect him, and I try to make him happy in every way.  I do my part, Noel, as you do yours.  Since I have been compelled to sacrifice love for money, at least let us be true to the sacrifice.”

“You didn’t sacrifice yourself wholly for money.”

“No, I did not.  It was because of Garvington’s crime.  But no one knows of that, and no one ever shall know.  In fact, so happy am I and Hubert—­”

“Happy?” said Lambert wincing.

“Yes,” she declared firmly.  “He thinks so, and whatever unhappiness I may feel, I conceal from him.  But you must come to The Manor, and meet me here, there, and everywhere, so that people shall not say, as they are doing, that you are dying of love, and that, because I am a greedy fortune-hunter, I ruined your life.”

“They do not dare.  I have not heard any—­”

“What can you hear in this jungle?” interrupted Lady Agnes with scorn.  “You stop your ears with cotton wool, but I am in the world, hearing everything.  And the more unpleasant the thing is, the more readily do I hear it.  You can end this trouble by coming out of your lovesick retirement, and by showing that you no longer care for me.”

“That would be acting a lie.”