Claudia breathed relief. She had dreaded to find Harry established. The telegram announcing her unexpected return must have given an inkling of what had happened, and she could not have endured the sight of his face, with possibly a reawakened hope beaming in it. Now she could more freely tell her story.
“Anne,” she said, in a voice not quite steady, “I want to explain why I have come back.”
“If you like,” Anne replied gently. “But you know this is to be home, without any need for explanations.”
“I know. And I don’t think explain was quite the word to use, for I can’t explain yet, even to myself. Only it is all over between Captain Fenwick and me.” As Anne did not speak, she went on hurriedly, “You don’t mind my not saying more, do you?”
“No, I don’t mind,” said Anne, with that warm inflexion of the voice which is like a caress. “I am only wondering whether it is quite right to leave you to fight your own battles single-handed. Can nothing be done?”
Claudia sprang up and went to the window.
“Please,” she said, with her back to her cousin, “I don’t want sympathy.”
“Or help?”
“Or help.”
“Then you shall go your own way in peace,” Anne said, smiling.