She sat unmoving.
'You mean,' she said at length, 'that those letters represented more than you were willing to confess ?' It was calmly asked.

Evidently Wilfrid had no outbreak of resentment to fear.

He would have preferred it to this dreadful self-command.
'More,' he answered, 'than I felt at the time.

I spoke no word of conscious falsehood.' 'Has anything happened to prove to you what you then denied ?' He looked at her in doubt.

Could she in any way have learnt what had come to pass?
Whilst talking, he had made up his mind to disclose nothing definitely; he would explain his behaviour merely as arising from doubt of himself.