“Yes. I want to. I must. Mr.—he told Fanny that I was—that I had promised to marry him.”
“Ah!”
“He told her that I had been to his flat on the very day that I had heard of my father’s death and since. He promised Fanny that—that when we were married she should have a home with us. Isn’t that horrible? Fanny has been afraid of my marrying because, you see, she depends in a way on me. She doesn’t want to leave me. She’s got accustomed—”
“Yes—yes.”
“He told her that people knew about my visits to him. Mrs. Birchington lives in the flat opposite his, and she knows. He contrived that she should know. I realize that now.”
“A man like that lays his plans carefully.”
“Yes. Oh—how humiliating it all is! Fanny was enthusiastic about him.”
“What did you say?”
“I was very careful. Because I promised you! But I know she thinks—she must think I am in love with him. But that doesn’t matter. Only it makes things difficult. But it isn’t that which brought me here. I’m afraid of him.”
“Have you ever written to him?”