Isabel nodded. "I understand. It is all plain now. Last night I was frightened and everything seemed so confused."
"I don't wonder at it," said Tony sympathetically. "Unless one's led a very strenuous life it must be horribly confusing to be suddenly held up by a couple of dagoes in Long Acre, and then rescued by a future champion of England."
There was a long pause.
"I—I feel somehow that I ought to explain," began Isabel uncomfortably. "You have been so nice about not asking any questions, but of course you must be wondering who I am, and—and how things came to be like this."
"Only mildly and pleasantly," said Tony. "I never allow my curiosity to get painful."
Isabel set down her cup. "I would tell you if I could," she said rather desperately, "but there are reasons why I mustn't."
Tony's face brightened at once. "How nice!" he observed. "I love mystery, and so few people have any of it about them nowadays—especially in Hampstead."
"I hate it," exclaimed Isabel with what seemed unnecessary bitterness: "I have had nothing else but mystery and secrets all my life. Oh, if you only knew how lovely it was just to be oneself for once—to be able to do and say exactly what one likes—" She paused and took a long, deep breath. "I can't go back again," she added. "I—I believe I should kill myself if I did."
"Of course you can't go back," said Tony. "We settled all that last night. You are going to stay on with Mrs. Spalding and adopt me and Guy as cousins. I don't think there is any need to let Henry in just at present. One would want a bit of practice before adopting Henry."
Isabel looked across at him with that frank, almost childish smile of hers, which contrasted so delightfully with the little touch of dignity in her manner.