"She was civil to me. But she has never once given me Tom's name, nor has she allowed me to introduce myself by it."
"The old lady used it."
"That was because I followed an impulse one day and told her. She followed an impulse and used it. She is a naughty old lady."
"Ah!" He considered for a moment. "If she did believe you, is it your impression she would expect you to—inherit?"
"I wouldn't have it." Her face quivered all over. "I never thought of that for a moment. Can't you see why I came? I was beside myself in Paris. There were you, hurrying back from the East and bringing—him."
"The prince?"
"You had written me he would come with you. When he saw me again, you said, he would not take 'no.' Peter was going home. Kind Peter! He said, 'Why don't you come with me?' He said Electra was beautiful, quite the most beautiful person in the world. I thought she would receive me. I could tell another woman—and so kind!—everything, and I could settle down for a little among simple people and get rested before—" She stopped, and he knew what she had meant to say: "Before you and your prince began pursuing me again."
But he did not answer that. It was a part of his large kindliness never to perpetuate harsh conclusions, even by accepting them.
"I shall go to see your Electra at once," he said.
She raised a forbidding hand.