“No. I have no such feeling. Whatever you both agree upon will satisfy me. So come by all means if you wish. I can have nothing to do with it. You had better write and ask her if she will see you, I should think.”
Barfoot rose from his seat, and Mary was glad to be released so quickly from a disagreeable situation. For her own part she had no need to put indiscreet questions; Everard’s manner acquainted her quite sufficiently with what was going on in his thoughts. However, he had still something to say.
“You think I have behaved rather badly—let us say, harshly?”
“I am not so foolish as to form any judgment in such a case, cousin Everard.”
“Speaking as a woman, should you say that Rhoda had reason on her side—in the first instance?”
“I think,” Mary replied, with reluctance, but deliberately, “that she was not unreasonable in wishing to postpone her marriage until she knew what was to be the result of Mrs. Widdowson’s indiscreet behaviour.”
“Well, perhaps she was not,” Everard admitted thoughtfully.
“And what has been the result?”
“I only know that Mrs. Widdowson has left London and gone to live at a house her husband has taken somewhere in the country.”
“I’m relieved to hear that. By-the-bye, the little lady’s “indiscreet behaviour” is as much a mystery to me as ever.”