"Would, could, might, and ought are often mistaken," asserted Fulvia.
"Fulvia is right. I had a fancy to go round," said Nigel, and for a moment he was strongly tempted to say no more. But an explanation was expected; his call at the Rectory was sure to become known; he disliked needless mysteries, and his habitual openness won the day. With scarcely a break, he went on—"A fancy to look at old haunts by gaslight. I walked some distance."
"Which way?" asked the persistent Anice.
"By Church Square."
"To the Elveys'?" Mrs. Browning bit her lip nervously.
"Not intending to see them, mother. It was as I say—a fancy to take a look. I fully meant to be here as soon as Pollard; but I met Mr. Elvey, and he persuaded me to go in for five minutes."
Fulvia's brows were knitted, yet she laughed. "I don't see why you should not. The Elveys always were great cronies of yours."
"No—only—one would have thought," murmured Anice. "Yes, of course they are old friends. Only—to put them before us—"
"You goose!" exclaimed Fulvia angrily. "As if there were any putting before or behind in the question! I don't see, for my part, how Nigel could well help going in, when Mr. Elvey met him. How can you be so absurd!"
Anice's eyes filled with ready tears, and she gazed dolorously on the carpet; yet distressed as she might be at Fulvia's blame, her distress did not prevent a renewed faint mutter of—"Before his mother and sisters!"