"Yes," said Imogene huskily, and she let an interval that was long to them both elapse before she said anything more. "Have I always done what you thought best, Mrs. Bowen?"
"Yes, I have never complained of you."
"Then why can't you tell me now what you think best?"
"Because there is nothing to be done. It is all over."
"But if it were not, would you tell me?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I—couldn't."
"Then I take back my promise not to write to Mr. Colville. I am going to ask him to stay."
"Have you made up your mind to that, Imogene?" asked Mrs. Bowen, showing no sign of excitement, except to take a faster hold of her own wrists with the slim hands in which she had caught them.