Daisy did not come to her. Anice found out where Fulvia was, and wanted Daisy to bring her thence, but Daisy flatly refused to act messenger. She did not wish to be questioned by Fulvia.
She needed not to fear. Fulvia was in too abject a state to question anybody. The long-buried wrongdoing, almost forgotten by herself, had found her out sharply. She saw her own action once again, as at first, with Nigel's eyes, and she was overwhelmed with shame. Would Nigel cast her off for this? Would he be glad to avail himself of the excuse?
Anice before long brought a summons to afternoon tea, and Fulvia, refused to go.
"I want to wait for Nigel here. I am tired," she said. "Somebody can bring me a cup, or I can go without. I don't want to be bothered."
The maid brought a cup, since Daisy would not. The laziness of the latter was unaccountable in the eyes of Mrs. Browning and Anice, for Daisy did not usually shirk trouble, like indolent Anice. But she offered no explanation, only she would not go.
Fulvia stayed on in the study alone, leaning back in Nigel's easy-chair, with his open book beside her, the picture of mingled misery and self-condemnation.
From a quarter to five till a quarter to seven she waited, the longest two hours that Fulvia had ever known. Nobody came near her for a while. Then Mrs. Browning appeared, and wanted to know what was wrong. Fulvia evaded her inquiries with a forced smile; she could see that Mrs. Browning knew nothing of the postscript. But Daisy—why did not Daisy appear, as on any other occasion Daisy's resolute avoidance of Fulvia spoke palpably.
The front door opened at length, and Nigel came in. His hair was wet and plastered, his coat damp; even a greatcoat had not served to shelter him from the driving rain. For a moment he did not see Fulvia; then their eyes met.
Fulvia knew at once that he knew, and he saw that she was aware of what he knew. She hold out both hands, and said, "Nigel! Speak!"
"I did not expect you to be home so soon."