"Why?" he reiterated. "Answer me! Answer me!"
She did not answer him. She could not. And in the silence that
followed, it seemed to her that something within her--something
that had been Vitally wounded--struggled and died.
"Look at me!" he said.
She lifted an ashen face. His eyes held hers, and the torture of
his hell encompassed her also.
"Tell me the truth!" he said. "I shall know if you lie. When did
you see him last?"
She shook her head. "A long while ago. Ages ago. Before you left
the farm."
The memory of his going, his touch, his smile went through her with
the words. She had a sickening sensation as of having been struck
over the heart.
"Where did you spend last night?" he said.
"At Ritzen." Her white lips seemed to speak mechanically. She
herself stood apart as it were, stunned beyond feeling.
"You came here by rail---alone?"
The voice of the inquisitor pierced her numbed sensibilities,
compelling--almost dictating--her answer.
"Yes--alone."
"You had arranged to meet here then?"
Still the scourging continued, and she marvelled at herself, that
she felt so little. But feeling was coming back. She was waiting
for it, dreading it.
She answered without conscious effort. "No--I came after him. He
doesn't know I am here."
"And yet you are posing as his wife?"
She felt that.
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