"You wrote me a very nice letter, Sammy," she said. He laughed. "Yes, didn't I? Too good by half." Fate had played Camilla a nasty trick by bringing her face to face with this man just at this particular moment. When he had been thrown, his first act on picking himself up had been to thrash his horse unmercifully. That had relieved him a little, but the poison of his anger had not worked off completely. He had always promised himself the pleasure of dealing very straightly with Mrs. Lancing. He was not likely to deny himself the satisfaction of doing this when he felt so much in need of a vent for his feelings; when, too, he knew that he had the situation in the hollow of his hand. "I must say," he said, with that same sneering tone in his voice, "that I was taken all aback when I heard what had happened. Always thought you were a model of fidelity, that your heart was buried in Ned's grave, and that sort of thing, don't you know? But money makes a great difference, and there has never been quite enough money for you, has there, Camilla?" She shivered. There was a leer on his face as he turned and looked at her. She answered him half lightly, half wearily. "Oh, I don't know! I think one can have too much of anything, even of money." At this Sir Samuel laughed loudly. "Well, I must say you are a clever woman. Yes, by Jove! you are. I used to think in the old days, when Ned was on the scene, that you were a fool and a saint combined. I know a little bit better now." Camilla's lips quivered. She turned to him. There was an unconscious entreaty in her voice. "Dear Sammy," she said, "why are you so cross with me?" But he only answered with another laugh. "Yes, in the old days," he went on, "you played the part of the prude to perfection. Kept a fellow at arm's length, and pretended all sorts of things." "Why go back to those old times?" asked Mrs. Lancing, in a very low voice. "Because I choose to do so; because there is something that has to be settled between us, and you know that! I suppose you think I was taken in by the sweet way you treated me when we met down here in November. But it was the other way about. I took you in, didn't I?" It was very cold in this damp country road; all the world seemed grey; the trees with their bare, seemingly withered branches stood like spectres against the dull sky. Camilla's colour had faded. She looked haggard. "Please speak a little more plainly," she said. And Broxbourne answered her. "Not I. There is nothing to be gained by telling the truth to a woman, especially to a woman like you." She caught her breath sharply, almost as if she had been struck. Her mind, trained to work with almost incredible swiftness, fathomed the significance of these words. She put out her hand and gripped his arm.