'You spoke to him?'
'Yes. Oh! I wish I hadn't. You were right. He had written to his father, after all!'
'Then it is off your mind?'
'Yes. No—it would be—' She fell into a terrible tangle of hesitation and broken words, out of which he thus interpreted,
'You found the situation awkward?'
'Oh! I ought not to complain, for it was my own doing when you warned me, and I don't believe he meant it; but—but—it just amounts to this, that I can never freely say again that he never said, or tried to say, a word like flirting—to me. And I suppose it is my duty to tell, and—give them all up—'
'I suppose you had rather not tell me what he really said?'
'It was not words so much as manner—assuming that I was on his side at heart, and half laughing at me all the time. Then, when he had told me quite seriously that the family compact was all nonsense, he grew a little more like that—wanted me to hear his plans, and stay away from the rest—said it was as good as our being lost.'
'Is that all?'
'Yes; except that, when I said why I began, he answered, "Then I am much obliged to my mother's letter."'