'Well,' she resumed, 'you know that it is not my part to make useless scenes. I began with my hardest words, and they must stand. Beatrice will not die of a broken heart, happily, and if your wife is one half as noble you are indeed a fortunate man. Perhaps we had better talk no more at present; it is possible you have acted rightly, and I must run no risk of saying unkind things. Is your father informed?'
'Not yet.'
'You are leaving town?'
'This afternoon.'
'To go to a distance?'
'No. I shall be in town daily.'
'You doubtless inform your father before you leave?'
'I shall do so.'
'Then we will say good-bye.'
Mrs. Baxendale gave her hand. She did not smile, but just shook her head as she looked Wilfrid steadily in the face.