‘We won’t talk any more of it,’ said Rhoda, with an endeavour to speak kindly.  ’You have done all that could be asked of you.  I am grateful to you for coming on my account.

The other controlled herself.

’Will you hear what I have to say, Miss Nunn?  Will you hear it as a friend?  I want to put myself right in your thoughts.  I have told no one else; I shall be easier in mind if you will hear me.  My husband will know everything before very long—­but perhaps I shall not be alive—­’

Something in Miss Nunn’s face suggested to Monica that her meaning was understood.  Perhaps, notwithstanding her denial, Virginia had told more when she was here than she had permission to make known.

‘Why should you wish to tell me?’ asked Rhoda uneasily.

’Because you are so strong.  You will say something that will help me.  I know you think that I have committed a sin which it is a shame to speak of.  That isn’t true.  If it were true I should never consent to go and live in my husband’s house.’

‘You are returning to him?’

‘I forgot that I haven’t told you.’

And Monica related the agreement that had been arrived at.  When she spoke of the time that must elapse before she would make a confession to her husband, it again seemed to her that Miss Nunn understood.

‘There is a reason why I consent to be supported by him,’ she continued.  ’If it were true that I had sinned as he suspects I would rather kill myself than pretend still to be his wife.  The day before he had me watched I thought I had left him forever.  I thought that if I went back to the house again it would only be to get a few things that I needed.  It was some one who lived in the same building as Mr. Barfoot.  You have met him—­’

She raised her eyes for an instant, and they encountered the listener’s.  Rhoda was at no loss to supply the omitted name; she saw at once how plain things were becoming.

‘He has left England,’ pursued Monica in a hurried but clear voice.  ’I thought then that I should go away with him.  But—­it was impossible.  I loved him—­or thought I loved him; but I was guiltless of anything more than consenting to leave my husband.  Will you believe me?’

‘Yes, Monica, I do believe you.’

’If you have any doubt, I can show you a letter he wrote to me from abroad, which will prove—­’

‘I believe you absolutely.’

‘But let me tell you more.  I must explain how the misunderstanding—­’

Rapidly she recounted the incidents of that fatal Saturday afternoon.  At the conclusion her self-command was again overcome; she shed tears, and murmured broken entreaties for kindness.

’What shall I do, Miss Nunn?  How can I live until—?  I know it’s only for a short time.  My wretched life will soon be at an end—­’

‘Monica—­there is one thing you must remember.’

The voice was so gentle, though firm—­so unlike what she had expected to hear—­that the sufferer looked up with grateful attention.