Rhoda, though she thought it very unlikely that all this should be admirable acting, showed that the explanation had by no means fully satisfied her. Unwilling to put the crucial question, she waited, with gravity which had none of the former harshness, for what else Mrs. Widdowson might choose to say. A look of suffering appeal obliged her to break the silence.
“I am very sorry you have laid this task upon yourself—”
Still Monica looked at her, and at length murmured,—
“If only I could know that I had done any good—”
“But,” said Rhoda, with a searching glance, “you don’t wish me to repeat what you have said?”
“It was only for you. I thought—if you felt able to let Mr. Barfoot know that you had no longer any—”
A flash of stern intelligence shot from the listener’s eyes.
“You have seen him then?” she asked with abrupt directness.
“Not since.”
“He has written to you?”—still in the same voice.