Mrs. Pasmer was really seeking in her daughter that comfort of a distinct volition which she had failed to find in her husband, and she wished to assure herself of it more and more, that she might share with some one the responsibility which he had refused any part in.
“Nothing. But I'm glad you wish so much to go.” The girl dropped her hands and stared. “You must have enjoyed yourself to-day,” she added, as if that were an explanation.
“Of course I enjoyed myself! But what has that to do with my wanting to go to-night?”
“Oh, nothing. But I hope, Alice, that there is one thing you have looked fully in the face.”
“What thing?” faltered the girl, and now showed herself unable to confront it by dropping her eyes.
“Well, whatever you may have heard or seen, nobody else is in doubt about it. What do you suppose has brought Mr. Mavering here!”
“I don't know.” The denial not only confessed that she did know, but it informed her mother that all was as yet tacit between the young people.
“Very well, then, I know,” said Mrs. Pasmer; “and there is one thing that you must know before long, Alice.”
“What?” she asked faintly.
“Your own mind,” said her mother. “I don't ask you what it is, and I shall wait till you tell me. Of course I shouldn't have let him stay here if I had objected—”