Hertha nodded her head.
“Yes,” she said, “I thought so. And—what about Winifred, Mr Maryon?”
“I know the difference now,” he replied. “That was a case of thinking I was what every one wished me to be. Now—oh, what a difference!”
“You should be very grateful to Winifred,” said Hertha, drily.
“I am,” he said, naïvely, “most grateful. But,”—and here his honest eyes grew troubled—“it is far from plain sailing. As things are, Louise won’t hear of it, and she is a girl of her word. It all depends upon Winifred. Miss Norreys, she is infatuated.”
A full explanation followed. Lennox was clear-headed and entirely candid, and before the conversation was at an end, Hertha saw and understood things more thoroughly than even after her talk with Mrs Maryon.
“I will do what I can,” she said, “but I feel less confident than I did, somehow. I almost think I could brave a visit from the ghostly guardian of the family, if I thought her influence would carry the day.”
“Hush, my dear Miss Norreys,” said Lennox.
“I admire your devotion, but I tremble. Supposing she—it—took you at your word.”
And again Hertha felt uncertain if he were joking or in earnest.