"Yes!"
He saw that she had coloured brightly.
"Do you remember all that nonsense I talked to you a month ago?"
"I can remember it if you want me to. Something about old Philip being a bully and a tyrant, wasn't it?"
"Some rubbish like that. Well—I don't want to be maudlin—but I wish to put it on record that Philip isn't a bully and he isn't a tyrant. He can be a jolly good friend!"
"With some old-fashioned opinions?" put in Geoffrey mockingly.
"Old-fashioned opinions?—yes, of course. And you needn't imagine that I shall agree with them all. Oh, you may laugh, Geoffrey, but it's quite true. I'm not a bit crushed. That's the delightful part of it. It's because he has a genius—yes, a genius—for friendship. I didn't know him when I came down here—I didn't know him a bit—and I was an idiot. But one could trust him to the very last."
Her hands lay idly on the bright-coloured knitting, and Geoffrey could watch the emotion on her face.
"And one is so glad to be his friend!" she went on softly, "because he has suffered so!"
"You mean in his marriage? What do you know about it?"