"Well—I suppose we must hope for the best," said her mother, with an implied recognition of Providence in the background; a mere civility! "Now I'm going."
"Very well then—go!" was what Gwen did not say in reply. She only thought that, if she had said it, it would have served mamma right. What she did say was:—"I know what you meant to say when you came upstairs, and you had better say it. Only I shall do nothing of the sort."
"I wish, my dear, you would be less positive. How can you know what I meant to say? Of what sort?"
"Reconsidering Adrian. Jilting him, in fact!"
"How can you know that?"
"Because you said it would not be any use talking to me about it. Just before you stopped looking out of the window, and said you might as well go."
Driven to bay, the Countess had a sudden accès of argumentative power. "Is there nothing it would be no use to talk to you about except this mad love-affair of yours?"
"Nothing so big. This is the big one. Besides, you know you did mean Adrian." As her ladyship did, she held her tongue.
Presently, having in the meantime resumed her seat, thereby admitting that her daughter was substantially right, she went on to what might be considered official publication.
"Your father and I, my dear, have had a good deal of talk about this unfortunate affair...."