'That should make you tolerant towards Mrs. Trevalla,' she suggested, as they walked together by the fountains.
'I suppose so, yes. It leaves us both slaves of something too strong for us.'
She passed by the affected humility that defaced his smile; she never expected too much, and was finding in him more than she had hoped.
'If you've any allowance for her, any gentleness towards her——'
'I feel very little anger now.'
'Then tell her so, Mortimer. Oh, I don't mean go to her. On all accounts you'd better not do that.' (Her smile was not altogether for Mervyn here; she spared some of it for her duties and position as an aunt.) 'But write to her.'
'What should I say?' The idea was plainly new to him. 'Do you mean that I'm to forgive her?'
'I wouldn't put it quite like that, Mortimer. That would be all right if you were proposing to—renew the arrangement. But I suppose you're not?'
He shook his head decisively. As a woman Lady Blixworth was rather sorry to see so much decision; it was her duty as an aunt to rejoice.
'Couldn't you manage to convey that it was nobody's fault in particular? Or something like that?'