“You don’t go telling everybody, I hope?” he said.

“My dear Jerrold, what do you think I’m made of?  I haven’t even told Anne’s father.  I’ve only told you because I thought you ought to know.”

“I see; you want to put me off Anne?”

“I don’t want to.  But it would, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh Lord, yes, if it was true.  Perhaps it isn’t.”

“Jerry dear, it may be awfully immoral of me, but for Colin’s sake I can’t help hoping that it is.  I did so want Anne to marry Colin—­really he’s only right when he’s with her—­and if Queenie divorces him I suppose she will.”

“But, mother, you are going ahead.  You may be quite wrong.”

“I may.  You can only suppose—­”

“How on earth am I to know?  I can’t ask them.”

“No, you can’t ask them.”

Of course he couldn’t.  He couldn’t go to Colin and say, “Are you Anne’s lover?” He couldn’t go to Anne and say, “Are you Colin’s mistress?”

“If they wanted us to know,” said Adeline, “they’d have told us.  There you are.”

“Supposing it isn’t true, do you imagine he cares for her?”

“Yes, Jerrold.  I’m quite, quite sure of that.  I was down there last week and saw them.  He can’t bear her out of his sight one minute.  He couldn’t not care.”

“And Anne?”

“Oh, well, Anne isn’t going to give herself away.  But I’m certain...  Would she stick down there, with everybody watching them and thinking things and talking, if she didn’t care so much that nothing matters?”

“But would she—­would she—­”

The best of his mother was that in these matters her mind jumped to meet yours halfway.  You hadn’t got to put things into words.

“My dear, if you think she wouldn’t, supposing she cared enough, you don’t know Anne.”

“I shall go down,” he said, “and see her.”

“If you do, for goodness’ sake be careful.  Even supposing there’s nothing in it, you mustn’t let Colin see you think there is.  He’d feel then that he ought to leave her for fear of compromising her.  And if he leaves her he’ll be as bad as ever again.  And I can’t manage him.  Nobody can manage him but Anne.  That’s how they’ve tied our hands.  We can’t say anything.”

“I see.”

“After all, Jerrold, it’s very simple.  If they’re innocent we must leave them in their innocence.  And if they’re not——­”

“If they’re not?”

“Well, we must leave them in that.”

Jerrold laughed.  But he was not in the least amused.

iii

He went down to Wyck the next day; he couldn’t wait till the day after.

Not that he had the smallest hope of Anne now.  Even if his mother’s suspicion were unfounded, she had made it sufficiently clear to him that Anne was necessary to Colin; and, that being so, the chances were that Colin cared for her.  In these matters his mother was not such a fool as to be utterly mistaken.  On every account, therefore, he must be prepared to give Anne up.  He couldn’t take her away from Colin, and he wouldn’t if he could.  It was his own fault.  What was done was done six years ago.  He should have loved Anne then.