“Perhaps there was—something may have occurred to upset her.”
“What was it?”
Her voice was imperious.
“You must tell me what it was!” she said, as he was silent.
“Hermione, my friend, let us sit down. Let us at any rate be with each other as we always have been—till now.”
He was almost pleading with her, but she did not feel her hardness melting. Nevertheless she sat down.
“Now tell me what it was.”
“I don’t think I can do that, Hermione.”
“I am her mother. I have a right to know. I have a right to know everything about my child’s life.”
In those words, and in the way they were spoken, Hermione’s bitter jealousy about the two secrets kept from her, but shared by Artois, rushed out into the light.