"What are you going to do?
I must know.
You're not going to deny that you know all about it?"
"I do not propose to deny anything," said Clare coldly.
"You saw me there that day?"
"No.
I saw your handwriting in the book - Mr. and Mrs. Cyril Brown."
Vivien flushed darkly.
"Since then," continued Clare quietly, "I have made inquiries.
I find that you were not at Bournemouth that weekend.
Your mother never sent for you.
Exactly the same thing happened about six weeks previously."
Vivien sank down again on the sofa.
She burst into furious crying, the crying of a frightened child.
"What are you going to do?" she gasped. "Are you going to tell Gerald?"
"I don't know yet," said Clare.
She felt calm, omnipotent.
Vivien sat up, pushing the red curls back from her forehead.
"Would you like to hear all about it?"
"It would be as well, I think."
Vivien poured out the whole story. There was no reticence in her.
Cyril 'Brown', was Cyril Haviland, a young engineer to whom she had previously been engaged.
His health failed, and he lost his job, whereupon he made no bones about jilting the penniless Vivien and marrying a rich widow many years older than himself.
Soon afterwards Vivien married Gerald Lee.
She had met Cyril again by chance.
That was the first of many meetings.
Cyril, backed by his wife's money, was prospering in his career, and becoming a well known figure.
It was a sordid story, a story of backstairs meeting, of ceaseless lying and intrigue.
"I love him so," Vivien repeated again and again, with a sudden moan, and each time the words made Clare feel physically sick.
At last the stammering recital came to an end.
Vivien muttered a shamefaced: "Well?"
"What am I going to do?" asked Clare. "I can't tell you.
I must have time to think."
"You won't give me away to Gerald?"
"It may be my duty to do so."
"No, no." Vivien's voice rose to a hysterical shriek. "He'll divorce me.
He won't listen to a word.
He'll find out from that hotel, and Cyril will be dragged into it.
And then his wife will divorce him.
Everything will go - his career, his health - he'll be penniless again.
He'd never forgive me - never."
"If you'll excuse my saying so," said Clare, "I don't think much of this Cyril of yours."
Vivien paid no attention.
"I tell you he'll hate me - hate me.
I can't bear it.
Don't tell Gerald.
I'll do anything you like, but don't tell Gerald."
"I must have time to decide," said Clare gravely. "I can't promise anything offhand.
In the meantime, you and Cyril mustn't meet again."
"No, no, we won't.