'She's been here for a few minutes since tea. I told her if she'd come down in the morning you'd have something to tell her.'
'She's been here? But why didn't you call me? I must go up and speak.'
'Not to-night, mother. It was better that you weren't here. I had something to say to her—something I wanted to say before she heard of this. Now she has a right to know.'
Lydia returned shortly after eight o'clock. She had walked about aimlessly for an hour and a half, avoiding the places where she was likely to meet anyone she knew. She was chilled and wretched.
Thyrza said nothing till her sister had taken off her hat and jacket and seated herself.
'When did you see Mr. Ackroyd last?' she inquired.
'I'm sure I don't know,' was the reply. 'I passed him in the Walk about a week ago.'
'But, I mean, when did you speak to him?'
'Oh, not for a long time,' said Lydia, smoothing the hair upon her forehead. 'Why?'
'He seems to have forgotten all about me, Lyddy.'