Florence coloured; then she put her hand to her heart.
"You never replied to my letter, Mrs. Trevor."
"What was there to say?"
"Will you tell me now what you thought of it?"
Mrs. Trevor had seated herself by the fire. She held out her small hands to the grateful blaze; then she looked round at the girl.
"Sit down, child," she said; "take off your hat. If you wish to know what I really thought, I imagined that you were a little hysterical and that you had overstated things. Girls of your age are apt to do so. I was very sorry, for Maurice's sake, that you did not accept my offer; but otherwise I prefer to be alone."
"I see. Well, I must tell you now that I did not exaggerate. I have been bad through and through: quite unworthy of your attention and care: quite unworthy of Mr. Maurice's regard."
"That is extremely likely," said the mother of Mr. Maurice, drawing herself up in a stately fashion.
"Oh, don't be unkind to me; do bear with me while I tell you. Afterwards I shall go away somewhere, but I must relieve my soul. Oh, it is so sinful!"
"Speak, child, speak. Who am I that I should turn away from you?"