She sat rigid, staring at the opposite wall.
"Who told you this?"
"Does that alter the truth? I will not have this young man in my house. He shall work no treachery here."
Nance was dumb. Something seemed to have been taken from life. The breath of the morning was tainted.
Durrell looked at her, not unkindly.
"Now you can understand me, child. I have seen something of the world. I do not want you to suffer pain."
Nance tried to finish her meal, but she had no heart for it, and soon left the table. She wanted to be alone, to set her little world in order. Something had jarred it into momentary confusion. Yet surely it was foolish that she should care at all.
Nance went to her room and saw the flowered gown lying across a chair. The sight of it woke a rush of anger in her. Was he that kind of man? Had he thought her a vain fool who would dance to his piping?
A voice within her cried out in denial:
"An hour ago you trusted him! Are these things true?"