"Perhaps, Mr. Ford—" Mr. Burke began. A look passed between them, like a question and an assent.
"If you, Mr. Burke," said Mr. Ford, "will come on with me, I think we can let your man drive Mrs. Lonsdale home. It will not be necessary for her to appear."
Bessie Lonsdale's thankfulness could find itself no words; it was lost in that first moment in astonishment. She had not really expected them to believe. It had not even, as she told it, seemed to her own ears adequate.
"I think," said Mr. Burke, seeing her silent so long, "that Mrs. Lonsdale hasn't an idea of the seriousness of the charge she has escaped."
"Charge?" she repeated—"Charge?—" and without another word, Bessie Lonsdale fainted in her chair. And as she lost consciousness she heard, dim and far away, the voice of Mr. Ford reply: "That—the fact that she hadn't an idea of it—and that alone, is why she has escaped."
"I'm perfectly sure," said Peggy Lonsdale, on Saturday afternoon, "that you did let yourself have a dull time!" She was exploring the flat before she had taken off her things, and had stopped to sit for a moment on the arm of her mother's chair. "Anyway, mother dear, you didn't have to think of me! That must have been a relief!"
She put down her head and kissed her, and Bessie Lonsdale patted the fragrant young cheek.
"Oh, I thought of you occasionally," she said.