"Why not? He called me Marion almost at once."
"Did he so?"
"Just as though it were a thing of course. But I noticed it. It was not when he bade me poke the fire, but the next time. Did he tell you about the fire?"
"No, indeed."
"A man does not tell of such things, I think; but a girl remembers them. It is so good of you to come. You know—do you not?"
"Know what?"
"That I,—and your brother,—have settled everything at last?" The smile of pleasant good humour passed away from the face of Lady Frances, but at the moment she made no reply. "It is well that you should know. He knows now, I am sure. After what I said in my letter he will not contradict me again." Lady Frances shook her head. "I have told him that while I live he of all the world must be dearest to me. But that will be all."
"Why should you—not live?"
"Lady Frances—"
"Nay, call me Fanny."