‘You think I have behaved rather badly—­let us say, harshly?’

’I am not so foolish as to form any judgment in such a case, cousin Everard.’

’Speaking as a woman, should you say that Rhoda had reason on her side—­in the first instance?’

‘I think,’ Mary replied, with reluctance, but deliberately, ’that she was not unreasonable in wishing to postpone her marriage until she knew what was to be the result of Mrs. Widdowson’s indiscreet behaviour.’

‘Well, perhaps she was not,’ Everard admitted thoughtfully.

‘And what has been the result?’

’I only know that Mrs. Widdowson has left London and gone to live at a house her husband has taken somewhere in the country.’

’I’m relieved to hear that.  By-the-bye, the little lady’s “indiscreet behaviour” is as much a mystery to me as ever.’

‘And to me,’ Mary replied with an air of indifference.

’Well, then, let us take it for granted that I was rather harsh with Rhoda.  But suppose she still meets me with the remark that things are just as they were—­that nothing has been explained?’

‘I can’t discuss your relations with Miss Nunn.’

’However, you defend her original action.  Be so good as to admit that I can’t go to Mrs. Widdowson and request her to publish a statement that I have never—­’

‘I shall admit nothing,’ interrupted Miss Barfoot rather tartily.  ’I have advised you to see Miss Nunn—­if she is willing.  And there’s nothing more to be said.’

‘Good.  I will write to her.’

* * *

He did so, in the fewest possible words, and received an answer of equal brevity.  In accordance with permission granted, on the Monday evening he found himself once more in his cousin’s drawing-room, sitting alone, waiting Miss Nunn’s appearance.  He wondered how she would present herself, in what costume.  Her garb proved to be a plain dress of blue serge, certainly not calculated for effect; but his eye at once distinguished the fact that she had arranged her hair as she wore it when he first knew her, a fashion subsequently abandoned for one that he thought more becoming.

They shook hands.  Externally Barfoot was the more agitated, and his embarrassment appeared in the awkward words with which he began.

’I had made up my mind never to come until you let me know that I was tried and acquitted But after all it is better to have reason on one’s side.’

‘Much better,’ replied Rhoda, with a smile which emphasized her ambiguity.

She sat down, and he followed her example.  Their relative positions called to mind many a conversation they had held in this room.  Barfoot—­he wore evening-dress—­settled in the comfortable chair as though he were an ordinary guest.

‘I suppose you would never have written to me?’

‘Never,’ she answered quietly.

’Because you are too proud, or because the mystery is still a mystery?’