“Your troubles, then, have some reference to Lois Turquand?”
“In a measure, yes. You would wish me, if I understood you aright, to take advantage, as far as in me lay, of this offer?”
Mrs. Desfrayne hesitated, then cried, with vehemence:
“Why do you not speak plainly at once, instead of harassing me by these hints and half-confidences?”
“Because I am afraid of the effect upon you; because I am afraid you may never be able to forgive me.”
“For what offense?”
“For deceit and ingratitude toward the best and kindest of mothers.”
“It is impossible to comprehend you. I must only wait for some key to your singular self-reproaches,” said Mrs. Desfrayne, with a profound sigh.
“Three years ago I went for a holiday tour to Italy, when you were with some friends at Wiesbaden.”
“I recollect perfectly well. I was disappointed because you would not join us.”