'But ... just now...' argued Mrs. Wylie, vainly endeavouring to make Brenda resume the narrative—'just now he was quite stupid?'
'Yes.'
'What happened, Brenda?'
At this moment Mary brought in the tea and set it briskly down on a small table. Brenda stepped forward, and began pouring out.
'What happened, Brenda?' repeated Mrs. Wylie, when the door was closed.
Then she approached, took the teapot from her hand, and by gentle force turned the motherless girl's face towards herself.
'My darling,' she whispered, drawing the slim form to her breast, 'why should you hide your tears from me?'
I have endeavoured to make it clear that this girl was not an emotional being. There were no hysterical sobs—merely a few silent tears, and the narrative was continued.
'He came in, and asked me to tell him where Alice was. I refused, and then...'
'Then...?'