Presumably he hadn't anticipated such a candid acknowledgment, but even so he showed no disposition to lay down the probe.
"You didn't think it possible that anyone could meet the Wielitzska without regarding the event as a piece of stupendous good luck and being appropriately overjoyed, did you ?" he pursued relentlessly.
Magda pressed her lips together.

Then, with an effort: "No," she admitted.
"And so, just because I treated you as I would any other woman, and made no pretence of fatuous delight over your presence here, you supposed I must be ignorant of your identity?
Was that it ?" Magda writhed under the cool, ironical questioning with its undercurrent of keen contempt.

Each word stung like the flick of a lash on bare flesh.

But she forced herself to answer--and to answer honestly.
"Yes," she said very low.

"That was it." He shrugged his shoulders and turned away.
"Comment is superfluous, I think." She made an impulsive step towards him.
For some unfathomable reason she minded--minded intensely--that this man should hold her in such poor esteem.