'Well, it's a funny thing to ask you, but you know our late governess, Miss Townsend? I should like you to promise never to see her again, even by accident. If you meet her—by accident, I mean—I want you not to see her.'
Bruce held out both his hands.
'I swear I'd never recognise her even if I should meet her accidentally.'
'I know it's a very odd thing to ask,' continued Edith, 'just a fancy; why should I mind your not seeing Miss Townsend?'
He didn't answer.
'However, I do mind, and I'll be grateful.'
Edith thought one might be unfaithful without being disloyal, and she believed Bruce now. She was too sensible to ask him never to write a line, never to telephone, never to do anything else; besides, it was beneath her dignity to go into these details, and common-sense told her that one or the other must write or communicate if the thing was to be stopped. If Miss Townsend wrote to him to the club, he would have to answer. Bruce meant not to see her again, and that was enough.
'Then you're not cross, Edith—not depressed?'
She gave her sweetest smile. She looked brilliantly happy and particularly pretty.
'Edith!'