Instantly she saw how he would interpret her avowal, and her colour rose again. She must have felt, then, that she knew Major Fenno better; the inference was inevitable.
“You found it easier to speak to Fenno?”
She hesitated. “I cared so much less for what he felt.”
“Of course,” he sighed. “And you knew damaging things about him? Evidently, since he broke the engagement when you told him to.”
Again she faltered. “I knew something of his past life—enough to be sure he wasn’t the kind of husband for Anne. I made him understand it. That’s all.”
“Ah. Well, I’m not surprised. I suspected he was trying for her, and I own I hated the idea. But now I suppose there’s no help for it—”
“No help?” She looked up in dismay.
“Well—is there? To be so savage with you she must be pretty well determined to have him back. How the devil are you going to stop it?”
“I can’t. But you—oh, Fred, you must!”—Her eyes clung imploringly to his troubled face.
“But I don’t know anything definite! If there is anything—anything one can really take hold of—you’ll have to tell me. I’ll do all I can; but if I interfere without good reason, I know it will only make Anne more determined. Have you forgotten what the Clephanes are like?”