"It needn't," he said, in a tone rather more timid than young Sir Walter would have expected, "make any difference to our friendship, need it? If it meant that——"
The sentence was left in expressive incompleteness.
Mrs. Dennison wanted to laugh; but why should she hurt his feelings? He was a pleasant boy, and, in spite of his vanity, really a clever one. He had been a little spoilt; that was all. She turned her laugh in another direction.
"Berthe Cormack would tell you that it would be sure to intensify it," she said. "Seriously, I shan't hate you for marrying, and I don't suppose Marjory will hate me."
"Then" (Mrs. Dennison had to smile at that little word), "you'll help me?"
"Perhaps," said Mrs. Dennison, allowing her smile to become manifest.
"You won't be against me?"
"Perhaps not."
"Good-bye," said Evan, pressing her hand.
He had enjoyed himself very much, and Mrs. Dennison was glad that she had been good-natured, and had not laughed.