“But I told you—I told you—that was what you were not to think.”
“My dear, it’s an immense concession that he should think it’s you.”
“A concession to what?”
“Well, I suppose, to the supernatural.”
“Milly, you shouldn’t have told him. You don’t know what harm you might have done. I’m not sure even now that you haven’t done it.”
“Oh, have I?” said Milly triumphantly. “You’ve only got to look at him.”
“When did you tell him, then?”
“I told him—let me see—it was a week ago last Friday.” Agatha was silent. She wondered. It had been after Friday a week ago that he had prevailed so terribly.
“Agatha,” said Milly solemnly, “when we go away you won’t lose sight of him? You won’t let go of him?”
“You needn’t be afraid. I doubt now if he will let go of me.”