Trist shrugged his shoulders, and met her glance with calm, impenetrable eyes. He was in a corner, because silence was naught but confession.
'Am I,' he inquired imperturbably, 'the sort of man to drift?'
'No,' said Mrs. Wylie; 'you are not. But, Theo, are you sure that you are doing right? I don't want to interfere in the slightest degree with your action so long as it concerns only yourself. You are quite capable of looking after your own affairs, I know, quite sure of yourself, utterly reliant upon your own strength of purpose; but I want you to remember that women cannot be so self-dependent as men. However strong they may be, however capable, however brilliant, they must give in a little to the usages and customs of society, they must consider the praise or blame of their neighbours. Such praise or blame is part of their life, an important factor in their happiness or sorrow, and all the woman's rights in the world will make no difference.'
Trist had left his seat during this speech. He went to the fireplace and removed the kettle, which was boiling with mistaken ardour, to a cooler spot. He stood erect upon the hearthrug, and looked down into the pleasant woman's face upturned towards him. His hands were clasped behind his back, and there was on his face an encouraging smile. Seeing it, the widow continued:
'I came to-night, Theo, because I wanted to come to some understanding with you, even at the risk of being considered meddlesome and unnecessarily anxious.'
'That risk is small, Mrs. Wylie.'
'Thank you. Now I am going to be frank with you—not with the view of forcing a reciprocal frankness upon you, but because it is the best method of saying difficult things. You disapprove of obtrusive frankness, I know.'
Trist laughed, and did not deny this accusation. Mrs. Wylie's cup was empty, and he made a step forward and took it from her hand with grave courtesy.
'Will you have some more tea?' he inquired incidentally.
'Thanks; I will.'