"It has. I am miserable. But I deserve that. I did not come to talk about that. The point is this——"
"Bessie, I don't want to hear what you evidently ought not to know."
"Yes, you must, because someone else needs your advice."
"We won't trouble our minds about the someone else."
Bessie had, however, inherited another characteristic trait of her father's. She could ignore when she chose. She chose now.
"I may as well put you in possession of the facts," she continued. "A few weeks ago I was coming home by Pilgrim Road. I was not hurrying because I was struck, as I always am struck—I don't suppose I am peculiar in this—by the first appearance of spring. Pilgrim Road is a sheltered place. Spring always comes early there."
"It does."
"I will even add that I was recalling to myself verses of poetry connected with the time of year, when I saw a couple in front of me. They were walking very slowly with their backs towards me, taking earnestly together. They were Fay and Wentworth."
Magdalen made no movement, but her face, always pale, became suddenly ashen grey.
If Fay were seriously attracted by Wentworth would she ever confess, ever release Michael!