"Poor Charlie, that's what he's always saying himself. I've known him too long, you see, not to know him now. Years and years, my dear, before I knew you."
"It was through Mrs. Eliott that I knew you, remember."
"Because you were determined to know me. It was through you that I knew Mrs. Eliott. Before that, she never made the smallest attempt to know me better or to show me any kindness. Why should she?"
"Well, my dear, if you kept her at arm's length—if you let her see, for instance, that you preferred Mr. Gorst's society to hers—"
"Do you think I let her see it?"
"No, I don't. And it wouldn't enter her head. But, considering that she can't receive Mr. Gorst into her own house—"
"Why should she?"
"Edie—if she cannot, how can you?"
Edith closed her eyes. "I'll tell you some day, dear, but not now."
Anne did not press her. She had not the courage to discuss Mr. Gorst with her, nor the heart to tell her that he was to be received into her house no more. She saw Edith growing tender over his very name; she felt that there would be tears and entreaties, and she was determined that no entreaties and no tears should move her to a base surrender. Her pause was meant to banish the idea of Mr. Gorst from Edith's mind, but it only served to fix it more securely there.