"Afraid?"
"Yes, afraid. If I broke the engagement, Joyselle would be furious, and come and scold me."
"Surely you aren't afraid of being scolded?"
"By him, yes. If we had a row—the whole thing would come out."
"I don't see why."
The girl frowned. "You are you, and I am I. When I lose my temper I lose my head and behave like a lunatic. I'd—let it all out as sure as we both live. And then——" She broke off with a shrug.
"But, Brigit dear, I don't quite understand. What does Théo think of your being here all the winter? And the father, doesn't he think it strange?"
"No. You see, Joyselle went away from England in November, and was detained for two months; his mother was ill. When I left, I told Théo I'd write to him once a week, but that I wanted a long rest before—before I saw him again. I lied, and said I wasn't well.
"Then when Joyselle came back he wrote to me, saying I must come home. I wrote him a disagreeable note, practically telling him to mind his own business. He was angry—and besides, he was working hard, and didn't write again until this morning."
"Oh, I see."