“It would be useless, I suppose,” I said, with a sigh, “for me to
repeat that I have no recollection at all about these things. My memory
is completely at fault. I need not say how much I regret it.”
The lady rested her arms upon the table, and again her eyes disdained
my words and went traveling by their own route direct to my soul. She
laughed softly, with a strange quality in the sound—it was a laugh of
happiness—yes, and of content—and of misery. I tried to look away from
her.
“You lie, Elwyn Bellford,” she breathed, blissfully. “Oh, I know you
lie!”