"I don't know when. Not till late in the afternoon."
He did not seem to think she could object, and Fulvia would show no annoyance. Indeed, her feeling was far deeper than annoyance.
Daisy offered herself as a companion in Nigel's absence; but Fulvia could stand no companionship. She wanted to be alone; and to sit indoors was impossible. Daisy's offer was evaded; and somewhat later Fulvia slipped out of the house, unseen, for a solitary ramble.
Nigel had spoken of going down the river, and Fulvia made her way to the towing-path, following the same direction, not with any expectation of seeing him. She meant to be at home in time for his return.
It was a beautiful afternoon, very different from the preceding Saturday. A blaze of sunshine lit up all around, but could not chase away the shadows in Fulvia's heart.
"Will he ever feel the same for me again?" she asked herself drearily. "How could Daisy be so cruel as to tell him? But she did not mean to be cruel. She does not understand."
Fulvia would not be unjust, even in her pain; and she had noticed Daisy's air of anxious kindness this week, a manner as of one trying to make up for some wrong done to another.
Fulvia walked slowly, for there was no need to hasten. She could be as long as she liked.
The towing-path which she had chosen was the same which Ethel had chosen one wintry afternoon, some months before. Only, the surroundings now were of green trees and golden sunshine, and of water reflecting a summer sky.
Somebody was walking in front of Fulvia when she passed round the next river-bend—a slight girl, in a grey dress, with a shady hat, and movements so languid that they seemed to speak of ill-health. Fulvia did not pay any particular regard to her, being preoccupied. They were nearing a lock, and the girl paused to lean against one of the great gate-handles, as if for rest, turning towards Fulvia with the action. Fulvia saw her plainly then: saw a fragile-looking creature, with a delicate colourless face, and large blue eyes, dreamy and sad. She noticed the brown hair straying over the white brow, and noted even the thinness of the ungloved right hand, yet all without recognition, partly no doubt because she was herself so absorbed in thought.