“You behave as if I weren’t.”

“How am I to behave?”

“I know it’s difficult,” said Mary.  The memory of her blunder rankled.

“Are you offended because Steven hasn’t been to see you?”

“My dear Molly——­”

Mary ignored her look of weary tolerance.

“Because you can’t expect him to keep on running up to Garthdale when Papa’s all right.”

“I don’t expect him.”

“Well then——!” said Mary with the air of having exhausted all plausible interpretations.

“If I were offended,” said Gwenda, “should I be here?”

The appearance of the tea-tray and the parlormaid absolved Mary from the embarrassing compulsion to reply.  She addressed herself to the parlormaid.

“Tell Dr. Rowcliffe that tea is ready and that Miss Gwendolen is here.”

She really wanted Steven to come and deliver her from the situation she had created.  But Rowcliffe delayed his coming.

“Is it true that Steven’s going to give up his practice?” Gwenda said presently.

“Well no—­whatever he does he won’t do that,” said Mary.

She thought, “So that’s what she came for.  Steven hasn’t told her anything.”

“What put that idea into your head?” she asked.

“Somebody told me so.”

“He has had an offer of Dr. Harker’s practice in Leeds, and he’d some idea of taking it.  He seemed to think it might be a good thing.”

There was a flicker in the whiteness of Gwenda’s face.  It arrested
Mary.

It was not excitement nor dismay nor eagerness, nor even interest.  It was a sort of illumination, the movement of some inner light, the shining passage of some idea.  And in Gwenda’s attitude, as it now presented itself to Mary, there was a curious still withdrawal and detachment.  She seemed hardly to listen but to be preoccupied with her idea.

“He thought it would be a good thing,” she said.

“I think I’ve convinced him,” said Mary, “that it wouldn’t.”

Gwenda was stiller and more withdrawn than ever, guarding her idea.

“Can I see Steven before I go?” she said presently.

“Of course.  He’ll be up in a second——­”

“I can’t—­here.”

Mary stared.  She understood.

“You’re ill.  Poor dear, you shall see him this minute.”

She rang the bell.

LXV

Five minutes passed before Rowcliffe came to Gwenda in the study.

“Forgive me,” he said.  “I had a troublesome patient.”

“Don’t be afraid.  You’re not going to have another.”

“Come, you haven’t troubled me much, anyhow.  This is the first time, isn’t it?”

Yes, she thought, it was the first time.  And it would be the last.  There had not been many ways of seeing Steven, but this way had always been open to her if she had cared to take it.  But it had been of all ways the most repugnant to her, and she had never taken it till now when she was driven to it.