She stopped, checking in her throat words which she suddenly remembered would be fatal to the attitude she had assumed.

“Go on!” cried Lady Ogram.  “He—­what?”

“I was only going to say that Mr. Lashmar might easily have thought that he had made a mistake.  Well, that’s my opinion; if it isn’t pleasant to Miss Bride, I can’t help it.  I tell the truth, that’s all.”

“And that I will have!” said her aunt, with new self-command.  “The very last word of it, mind you!  Constance, why are you standing all this time?  Sit down here, on this chair.  Now I want you to repeat what you have told me.  First of all, at what o’clock did this happen?”

“At about half-past eight this morning.”

Had it been possible, Constance would have rolled oblivion over all she had spoken.  Already she found her vengeance a poor, savourless thing; she felt that it belittled her.  The fire of her wrath burnt low, and seemed like to smoulder out under self-contempt.  She spoke in a dull, mechanical voice, and gazed at vacancy.

“May,” Lady Ogram resumed, “when did you get up this morning?

“At about—­oh, about half-past seven, I think.”

“Did you go out before breakfast?”

“I have told you that I did, aunt.  I saw Lord Dymchurch in the garden.”

“I remember,” said her aunt, with a lowering, suspicious look.  “And you saw Mr. Lashmar as he was coming to the house?”

“No.  I didn’t see him at all.”

“How was that?  If you were in the garden?”

May glibly explained that her encounter with Lord Dymchurch took place not before, but behind, the house.  She had a spot of red on each cheek; her ears were scarlet; she sat with clenched hands, and stared at the lower part of her aunt’s face.

“Constance,” pursued the questioner, whose eyes had become small and keen as her utterance grew more sober, “tell it me all over again.  It’s worth hearing twice.  He began—?”

The other obeyed, reciting her story in a curt, lifeless way, so that it sounded less significant than before.

“And you promised to help him?” asked Lady Ogram, who repeatedly glanced at May.

“No, I didn’t.  I lost my temper, and said I don’t know what foolish things.”

This was self-punishment, but it, too, sounded idle in her ears as soon as she had spoken.

“But you consented to release him?”

“Of course.”

“Now, look at me.  Have you told me all he said?”

“All.”

“Look at me!  If I find that you are keeping any secret—!  I shall know everything, you understand that.  I won’t sleep till I know everything that has been going on.  Deceive me, if you dare!”

“I am not deceiving you,” answered Constance, wearily.  “You have heard all I know.”

“Now, then, for what you suspect,” said Lady Ogram, leaning towards her.  “Turn your mind inside out.  Tell me what you think!”