Maurice cleared his throat. "It's a long and unpleasant story, Miss Cayhill. And I'm afraid I must tell it from the beginning.—You didn't suspect, I fear, that ... well, that Ephie had a fancy for some one here?"
At these words, which were very different from those she had expected, Johanna eyed him in astonishment.
"A fancy!" she repeated incredulously. "What do you mean?"
"Even more—an infatuation," said Maurice with deliberation. "And for some one I daresay you have never even heard of—a...a man here, a violinist, called Schilsky."
The elaborate fabric she had that day reared, fell together about Johanna's ears. She stared at Maurice as if she doubted his sanity; and she continued to listen, with the same icy air of disbelief, to his stammered and ineffectual narrative, until he said that he believed "it" had been "going on since summer."
At this Johanna laughed aloud. "That is quite impossible," she said. "I knew everything Ephie did, and everywhere she went."
"She met him nearly every day. They exchanged letters, and——-"
"It is impossible," repeated Johanna with vehemence, but less surely.
"——and a sort of engagement seems to have existed between them."
"And you knew this and never said a word to me?"