"What about——?"
"Why, Mabel—Mabel Thurseley."
"Oh yes! Well, I suppose she—she knows what everybody knows—she knows what often happens."
"Oh, but while it's absolutely going on here! They might have waited a little at all events."
"You mean that—it's happening?"
Amy's figure rose erect in her chair again.
"Try and see if you can get him to utter Mabel's name to you!"
Winnie was struck with the suggestion. Her interest in her visitor suddenly became less derivative, more personal. She looked at Amy's passably well-favoured features and robust physique. There was really nothing about her to suggest eccentric ideas.
"Oh, do please sit down! Don't stand there as if you were turned to stone!" Amy's appeal was almost a wail. The slim figure was so motionless; it seemed arrested in its very life.
"I like you. It's very kind of you. I—I'm trying to think.... I can't take your word for it, you know. I love him—I trust him."