Finally, her task completed to her own satisfaction, she adjusted her glasses and crossed her hands over the top of her cane. "No news of my granddaughter, I suppose," she demanded. "None, I am sorry to say." "Anita is a fool, but I am certain--absolutely certain, mind you--that she did not kill that precious husband of hers, though I don't doubt he richly deserved it." "I am surprised that you of all people should speak of my cousin in that tone," said Cyril and he looked at her meaningly. "Of course, you believe what every one believes, that I forced Ann into that marriage. Stuff and nonsense! I merely pointed out to her that she could not do better than take him. She had not a penny to her name and after my death would have been left totally unprovided for. I have only my dower, as you know." "But, how could you have allowed a girl whose mind was affected to marry?" "Fiddlesticks! You don't believe that nonsense, do you? Newspaper twaddle, that is all that amounts to." "I beg your pardon, Arthur himself gave out that her condition was such that she was unable to see any one." "Impossible! He wrote to me quite frequently and never hinted at such a thing." "Nevertheless I assure you that is the case." "Then he is a greater blackguard than I took him to be----" "But did you not know that he kept her practically a prisoner here?" "Certainly not!" "And she never complained to you of his treatment of her?" "I once got a hysterical letter from her begging me to let her come back to me, but as the only reason she gave for wishing to leave her husband was that he was personally distasteful to her, I wrote back that as she had made her bed, she must lie on it." "And even after that appeal you never made an attempt to see Anita and find out for yourself how Arthur was treating her?" "I am not accustomed to being cross-questioned, Lord Wilmersley. I am accountable to no one but my God for what I have done or failed to do. I never liked Anita. She takes after her father, whom my daughter married without my consent. When she was left an orphan, I took charge of her and did my duty by her; but I never pretended that I was not glad when she married and, as she did so of her own free-will, I cannot see that her future life was any concern of mine." Cyril could hardly restrain his indignation. This proud, hard, selfish old woman had evidently never ceased to visit her resentment of her daughter's marriage on the child of that marriage. He could easily picture the loveless and miserable existence poor Anita must have led. Was it surprising that she should have taken the first chance that was offered her of escaping from her grandmother's thraldom? She had probably been too ignorant to realise what sort of a man Arthur Wilmersley really was and too innocent to know what she was pledging herself to.