"Does she know about me?" he said.
It flashed through Winifred that here was the weapon she needed. He
minded their knowing!
"No. Val knows. The others don't; they only know you went away."
She heard him sigh with relief.
"But they shall know," she said firmly, "if you give me cause."
"All right!" he muttered, "hit me! I'm down!"
Winifred went up to the bed. "Look here, Monty! I don't want to hit you.
I don't want to hurt you. I shan't allude to anything. I'm not going
to worry. What's the use?" She was silent a moment. "I can't stand any
more, though, and I won't! You'd better know. You've made me suffer.
But I used to be fond of you. For the sake of that...." She met the
heavy-lidded gaze of his brown eyes with the downward stare of her
green-grey eyes; touched his hand suddenly, turned her back, and went
into her room.
She sat there a long time before her glass, fingering her rings,
thinking of this subdued dark man, almost a stranger to her, on the bed
in the other room; resolutely not 'worrying,' but gnawed by jealousy of
what he had been through, and now and again just visited by pity.