“No, but—why did you do it, Henrietta?” he asked persistently. “Such a risk, such men, such circumstances, might have deterred any woman. Nay, almost any man.”
She toyed with her teaspoon; there had come a faint flush of colour into her cheeks.
“I think it was—I think it was just to reinstate myself,” she murmured.
“You mean?”
“You gave me to understand,” she explained, “that you thought ill of me. And I wished you to think well of me; or better of me, I should say, for I did not expect you to think quite well of me after—you know!” in some confusion.
“You wished to be reinstated?”
“Yes.”
“I wonder,” he said slowly, “how much you mean by that.”
“I mean what I say,” she answered, looking at him.
“Yes, but do you mean that you—wish to be reinstated altogether?”