"That wasn't why." Brigit had not moved, and Pam had seen no more than her profile as she sat down.
"No, it wasn't. But then I was particularly lonely, and literally had no one to tell. Whereas," she added with brisk good sense, "you have me."
For several minutes there was unbroken silence, and then Brigit said slowly, "I believe you're right. And I'll tell you. It's about—myself, of course; nothing else could upset me to this extent! You know I'm engaged to Théo Joyselle. Well—I love his father."
Her voice was defiant, as if deprecating in advance any cut-and-dried disapproval.
Pam did not answer for a moment. Then "Is his mother—I mean Théo's mother—alive?" she then asked, drawing up her knees and clasping them comfortably.
"Yes."
"That—is a pity."
"A pity! Aren't you shocked and frightened?"
"I'm sure I'm not shocked, and I don't think I am frightened. Brigit, does Théo know?"
Then Brigit turned, her face white under the sunburnt skin. "No. I am—afraid to tell him."