"You needn't be afraid," he said.
"I am afraid," she said. "I love you, Fred; I have always loved you. I'd hate to lose that love. It's one of my most precious possessions."
He answered her slowly, as though he were thinking things out. "I've always told you the truth," he said; "I'm telling you the truth now. Of course I want Brandon to go, and of course he's going. But I haven't to move a finger in the matter. It's all advancing without my agency. Brandon is ruining himself. Even if he weren't, I'm quite square with him. I fought him openly at the Chapter Meeting the other day. He hates me for it."
"And you hate him."
"Hate him? Not the least in the world. I admire and like him. If only he were in a less powerful position and were not in my way, I'd be his best friend. He's a fine fellow--stupid, blind, conceited, but finer made than I am. I like him better than any man in the town."
"I don't understand you"; she dropped her eyes from his face. "You're extraordinary."
He sat down again as though he recognised that the little contest was closed.
"Is there anything in this, do you think? This chatter about Mrs. Brandon and Morris."
"I don't know. There's a lot of talk beginning. Ellen Stiles is largely responsible, I fancy."
"Mrs. Brandon and Morris! Good Lord! Have you ever heard of a man called Davray?"