After a little pause she looked across at Brenda in a speculative way, and no doubt appreciated the grace and beauty of that fire-lit picture.
'Willie Hicks,' she said, 'has been here?'
'Yes. How did you know?' inquired Brenda rather sharply.
'Emma told me.'
'Ah!'
'Brenda,' said the widow in a softer tone, after a pause of some duration.
'Yes!'
'I have constructed a little fable for myself, in some part founded upon fact. Would you like to hear it?'
'Yes,' replied the girl with a slightly exaggerated moue of indifference; 'tell me.'
'Shortly after I arrived at the Hicks', Willie went out. I happened to know this, because I was near the window in the drawing-room and saw him. I also noticed that his gait was slightly furtive. I thought, "That young man does not want me to know that he has gone out." On my way home I met him going in the contrary direction. He avoided seeing me, and did it remarkably well, as might have been expected. But there was a change in his gait, and even in his attitude. The strange thought came into my head that he had been here to see you. Then I began to wonder what had caused the change I detected. It seemed as if William Hicks had passed through some experience—had received a lesson. The final flight of my imagination was this: that you, Brenda, had given him that lesson.'