“I dare say I did.”
“And I think you meant of worldly wisdom. Then can’t you, won’t you, trust my opinion of this man?”
“Oh if it’s only your opinion!”
“But it is not. It is knowledge.”
“Then you know Mr. Arabian?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Do you know him?”
Lady Sellingworth turned away for a moment. She stood with her back to Miss Van Tuyn and her face towards the fire, holding the mantelpiece with her right hand. Miss Van Tuyn, motionless, stared at her tall figure. She felt this was a real battle between herself and her friend, or enemy. She was determined to win it somehow. She still had a weapon in reserve, the weapon she had thought of just now when she had resolutely put away her fear of Arabian. But perhaps she would not be forced to use it, perhaps she could overcome Adela’s extraordinary resistance without it. As she looked at the woman turned from her she began to think that might be possible. Adela was surely weakening. This pause, this sudden moving away, this long hesitation suggested weakness. At last Lady Sellingworth turned round.
“You ask me whether I know that man.”
“I asked you whether you knew Mr. Arabian!” said Miss Van Tuyn, on a note of acute exasperation.