Miss Gostrey wondered. “From Madame de Vionnet herself?”
“As a probability—not quite a certainty: a good cause in which Chad has been working. So I’ve waited.”
“You need wait no longer,” she returned. “It reached me yesterday—roundabout and accidental, but by a person who had had it from one of the young man’s own people—as a thing quite settled. I was only keeping it for you.”
“You thought Chad wouldn’t have told me?”
She hesitated. “Well, if he hasn’t—”
“He hasn’t. And yet the thing appears to have been practically his doing. So there we are.”
“There we are!” Maria candidly echoed.
“That’s why I jumped. I jumped,” he continued to explain, “because it means, this disposition of the daughter, that there’s now nothing else: nothing else but him and the mother.”
“Still—it simplifies.”
“It simplifies”—he fully concurred. “But that’s precisely where we are. It marks a stage in his relation. The act is his answer to Mrs. Newsome’s demonstration.”