How dare he sit in judgment upon the meanest of his fellows,
let alone Harry Feversham? she asked, and in the same moment recollected
that she herself had endorsed his judgment. Shame tingled through all
her blood; she sat with her lips set, keeping Willoughby under watch
from the corners of her eyes, and waiting to pounce savagely the moment
he opened his lips. There had been noticeable throughout his narrative a
manner of condescension towards Feversham. "Let him use it again!"
thought Ethne. But Captain Willoughby said nothing at all, and Ethne
herself broke the silence. "Who of you three first thought of sending
the feathers?" she asked aggressively. "Not you?"
"No; I think it was Trench," he replied.
"Ah, Trench!" Ethne exclaimed. She struck one clenched hand, the hand
which held the feather, viciously into the palm of the other. "I will
remember that name."
"But I share his responsibility," Willoughby assured her. "I do not
shrink from it at all. I regret very much that we caused you pain and
annoyance, but I do not acknowledge to any mistake in this matter. I
take my feather back now, and I annul my accusation. But that is your
doing."
"Mine?" asked Ethne.
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