“What do you know of Mr. Gorst?”

“Enough, dear, to see that he isn’t fit for you to know.”

“Poor Charlie, that’s what he’s always saying himself.  I’ve known him too long, you see, not to know him now.  Years and years, my dear, before I knew you.”

“It was through Mrs. Eliott that I knew you, remember.”

“Because you were determined to know me.  It was through you that I knew Mrs. Eliott.  Before that, she never made the smallest attempt to know me better or to show me any kindness.  Why should she?”

“Well, my dear, if you kept her at arm’s length—­if you let her see, for instance, that you preferred Mr. Gorst’s society to hers—­”

“Do you think I let her see it?”

“No, I don’t.  And it wouldn’t enter her head.  But, considering that she can’t receive Mr. Gorst into her own house—­”

“Why should she?”

“Edie—­if she cannot, how can you?”

Edith closed her eyes.  “I’ll tell you some day, dear, but not now.”

Anne did not press her.  She had not the courage to discuss Mr. Gorst with her, nor the heart to tell her that he was to be received into her house no more.  She saw Edith growing tender over his very name; she felt that there would be tears and entreaties, and she was determined that no entreaties and no tears should move her to a base surrender.  Her pause was meant to banish the idea of Mr. Gorst from Edith’s mind, but it only served to fix it more securely there.

“Edith,” she said presently, “I will keep my promise.”

“Which promise?” Edith was mystified.  Her mind unwillingly renounced the idea of Mr. Gorst, and the promise could not possibly refer to him.

“The promise I made to you about Walter.”

“My dear one, I never thought you would break it.”

“I shall never break it.  I’ve accepted Walter once for all, and in spite of everything.  But I will not accept these people you say I’ve been let in for.  I will not know them.  And I shall have to tell him so.”

“Why should you tell him anything?  He doesn’t want you to take them to your bosom.  He sees how impossible they are.”

“Ah—­if he sees that.”

“Believe me” (Edith said it wearily), “he sees everything.”

“If he does,” thought Anne, “it will be easier to convince him.”

CHAPTER XV

The task was so far unpleasant to her that she was anxious to secure the first opportunity and get it over.  Her moment would come with the two hours after dinner in the study.

It did not come that evening; for Majendie telegraphed that he had been detained in town, and would dine at the Club.  He did not come home till Anne (who sat up till midnight waiting for that opportunity) had gone tired to bed.

Her determination gathered strength with the delay, and when her moment came with the next evening, it came gloriously.  Majendie gave himself over into her hands by bringing Gorst, of all people, back with him to dine.