But that misquotation roused me, and I contradicted her sharply.
“Excuse me! I said nothing of the sort. You are strong enough to do anything you chose. It is not strength that is wanting, but—”
“Go on! You might as well finish, now you’ve begun. But what?”
“Love!”
She gave a little gasp of astonishment.
“Love! For whom?”
“Your neighbours. Your husband. God!”
“Oh, it you are going to preach next!” she cried impatiently. She jumped up from her seat, whirled round, and flounced from the room.
Mr Maplestone came in to tea. He is quite a frequent visitor here I find. Besides the fact that he is a vicar’s churchwarden, it appears that he has known Delphine since she was a child, so that he is absolutely at home with her, and evidently very fond of her, too, in a cousinly, elder-brotherly, absolutely matter-of-fact way. The first time I saw him was quite early one morning when, hearing unusual sounds of merriment from the dining-room, I opened the door, and beheld the Vicar seated in an arm-chair, looking on with much amusement, while the Squire held a box of chocolates in one upraised hand, and Delphine capered round him, snatching, and leaping into the air like an excited little dog. It was a festive little scene until my head came peeping round the corner of the door, and then the fun collapsed like the pricking of a bubble. The Squire’s face fell, likewise his hand; he jerked stiffly to attention, stiffly handed over the chocolates, stiffly bowed to me, stared at my uncovered head.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you! Evelyn is staying here for a fortnight before going away.”