"If you must know, I meant to invite him to take a walk with me."
"Well!"--a note of scorn sounded in her voice, or Lanyard was deceived--"why didn't you? Wouldn't he go?"
"I regret to report that the gentleman is not at home."
"Not--!" Acute dismay drove the woman back to the rail round the well. A hand flew to her lips as if to muffle them. "Morphew isn't in his room?"
"Neither is Pagan; I'm afraid they are up to some sort of naughtiness."
"For God's sake! don't joke." Folly flew back to him, laid hold of his arm with hands of almost savage entreaty. "Don't you see your danger? Don't you _know_ what they intend?"
"Too well. That's why I wanted Morphew's company on my walk--not the best life insurance one could wish, but better than none."
"Ah! but why"--now the woman was almost sobbing--"_why_ didn't you run for it while you had a chance?"
"For the best of all reasons--I hadn't the chance."
"But they left you alone down there on the veranda--"
"Half a minute." Lanyard firmly freed his arm and caught her wrists instead, applying pressure enough to command attention. "You knew that much, knew I hadn't gone off in that car--"
"There isn't time to tell you. Be content that I know everything--"
"Why he brought me here tonight?" She nodded. "What he's forced me to promise I'd do?"
She gave no answer. The quiet of the hour took up their hurried, low-pitched murmurs as blotting-paper takes up ink. They stood without moving, close together, like lovers. He was aware of the hastened movement of her bosom, and though the glow from below was too feeble to read her face by, fancied that her eyes were louring.
"Please! you hurt." She made him loose her wrists, yet did not move beyond his reach. "Enough that I do know," her whisper insisted. "My name may be Folly, but I'll prove to you yet I'm far from a fool."
"You claim that," Lanyard retorted, "yet you're going to marry Morphew--"
"And you believe it!" She laughed bitterly. "Now you tell me, which of us is the fool?"
"It was you who informed me. How do I know what or what not to believe? I'm like a man newly blinded, groping my way round a strange house, hoping against hope to find a friend's hand--"
Lanyard set his lips to the hand Folly flung him, and folded it between his own.