"No, Milly, I don't say you frightened me, it was my own fear."
"What was there for you to be afraid of?"
Agatha was silent. That was what she must never tell her, not even to make her understand. She did not know what Milly was trying to think of her; Milly might think what she liked; but she should never know what her terror had been and her danger.
Agatha's silence helped Milly.
"Nothing will make me believe," she said, "that it was your fear that did it. That would never have made you give Harding up. Besides, you were not afraid at first, though you may have been afterwards."
"Afterwards?"
It was her own word, but it had as yet no significance for her.
"After—whatever it was you gave him up for. You gave him up for something."
"I did not. I never gave him up until I was afraid."
"You gave It up. You wouldn't have done that if there had not been something. Something that stood between."