“Enough!” said the Bishop, and waved her back to her chair prior to reseating himself. “First then, when you left me, was it alone?”
“Quite alone,” said Frances.
“And you went—where?”
“I went to a village on the moors called Brookside. It is a few miles from Fordestown. I found a lodging there.”
“Ah! And my nephew knew your whereabouts?”
“Certainly he did. He had offered to find me employment. I had practically promised to be his secretary in the event of his writing a book.”
“You did not consider that in any sense an indiscreet thing to do?” questioned the Bishop.
She felt herself colour slightly, but she answered him without hesitation. “Yes, I did. But beggars can’t be choosers. I tried to keep things on a business footing. I thought he was merely sorry for me. I did not realize—” she stopped abruptly.
“That he was strongly attracted by you?” suggested the Bishop.
“I did not think that I was sufficiently attractive for that to be possible,” she answered with simplicity.