"I think that's scarcely likely," said Agatha quietly.
Her companion made a sign of impatience. "Then," she said, "it's a pity. Anyway, if he speaks to you about his project you can tell him that it's altogether unreasonable."
She drew aside, and Agatha walked into the room in which she had had one painful interview with Gregory. Wyllard, who was sitting there, rose as she came in, and half-consciously she contrasted him with her lover. Then what Mrs. Hastings had once predicted came about, for Gregory did not bear that comparison favourably. Indeed, it seemed to her that he grew coarser and meaner in person and character. Then she turned to Wyllard, who stood quietly watching her.
"Nellie Hastings or her husband has been telling you what they think of my idea?" he said.
Agatha admitted it. "Yes," she said. "Their opinion evidently hasn't much weight with you."
"I wouldn't go quite so far as that, but you might have gone a little further than you did. Haven't you a message for me?" Then he smiled before he added, "You were sent to denounce my folly—and you can't do it. If you trusted your own impulses you would give me your benediction instead."
Agatha, who was troubled with a sense of regret, noticed that there was a suggestive wistfulness in his face.
"No," she said slowly, "I can't denounce it. For one reason, I have no right of any kind to force my views on you."
"You told Nellie Hastings that?"
It seemed an unwarranted question, but the girl admitted it candidly.