"Yes, no doubt I judge harshly," she repeated, "and no doubt, also, there is a particular fear in my brain, quite fantastic probably and quite without foundation. I have a 'good fellow' in my mind whose—whose 'good-fellow proceedings' touched me very acutely. I want, therefore, to know the name of this man. I can't help it; if Daisy wants it to be a surprise for me, she must be disappointed. You see what my fear is, that the two are the same. So tell me his name, Alice."
There was something so desperately serious in her tone that Lady Nottingham did not think of reassuring her out of her fears, but answered at once.
"Lord Lindfield," she said.
The drumming of Jeannie's fingers on the table ceased. She sat quite still, looking out in front of her.
"Lord Lindfield?" she asked. "Tom Lindfield?"
"Yes."
Jeannie got up.
"Then thank Heaven she doesn't love him," she said. "It is quite impossible that she should marry him. Since you began to tell me about this man I was afraid it was Tom Lindfield, hoping, hoping desperately, that it was not. She can never marry him, never—never! What are we to do? What are we to do?"
"There is some reason behind this, then, that I don't know?" asked Alice.
"Of course there is. I must tell you, I suppose. We must put our heads together and plan and plan. Oh, Alice, I hoped so much for peace and happiness, but it can't be yet, not until we have settled this."