It was a summons that could not be avoided.
'Sit here, Thyrza. I will tell you. Sit down and let me speak to you.'
'No, no! Tell me now! Why not? Why should I sit down? What is there to say?'
The words were not weakly complaining, but of passionate insistence. Thyrza believed that Mrs. Ormonde was preparing to elude her, was shaping excuses. Her eyes watched the other's every movement keenly, with fear and hostility. She felt within reach of her desire, yet held back by this woman from attaining it. Every instant of silence heightened the maddening tumult of her heart and brain. She had suffered so terribly since Saturday. It seemed as if her gentleness, her patience, were converted into their opposites, which now ruled her tyrannously.
'Mr. Egremont is not in London,' Mrs. Ormonde said at last. She dreaded the result of any word she might say. She was asking herself whether Walter ought not to be summoned back at once. Was it too late for that?
'Not in London? Then where? You saw him on Saturday?'
'Yes, I saw him.'
'And you would not tell him where I was, Mrs. Ormonde? You spoke like you did that night. You persuaded him not to come to me—when I was waiting. I forgave you for what you said before, but now you have done something that I shall never forgive——'
'Thyrza——'
'There's nothing you can say will make me forgive you! Your kindness to me hasn't been kindness at all. It was all to separate me from him. What have you told him about me? You have said I don't think of him any more. You made him believe I wasn't fit for him. And now you will refuse to tell me where he is.'