‘How kind of you!’ Mrs. Damerel sank her voice to a sort of cooing, not unmelodious, but to Nancy’s ear a hollow affectation. ‘If we could understand each other! I am so anxious for your dear brother’s happiness--and for yours, believe me. I have suffered greatly since he told me I was his enemy, and cast me off.’ Here sounded a note of pathos which impressed the critical listener. There was a look, too, in Mrs. Damerel’s eyes quite unlike any that Nancy had yet detected. ‘What do you wish him to do?’ she asked. ‘If I must tell you the truth, I don’t think he’ll get any good in the life of society.’ Society’s representative answered in a tone of affectionate frankness: ‘He won’t; I can see that. I don’t wish him to live idly. The question is, What ought he to do? I think you know a gentleman of his acquaintance, Mr. Crewe?’ The question was added rather abruptly, and with a watchful gaze. ‘I know him a little.’ ‘Something has been said, I believe, about Horace investing money in Mr. Crewe’s business. Do you think it would be advisable?’ Surprise kept Nancy silent. ‘Is Mr. Crewe trustworthy? I understand he has been in business for himself only a short time.’ Nancy declared herself unable to judge Mr. Crewe, whether in private or in commercial life. And here she paused, but could not refrain from adding the question whether Mrs. Damerel had personal knowledge of him. ‘I have met him once.’ Immediately, all Nancy’s suspicions were revived. She had felt a desire to talk of intimate things, with mention of her mother’s name; but the repulsion excited in her by this woman’s air of subtlety, by looks, movements, tones which she did not understand, forbade it. She could not speak with satisfaction even of Horace, feeling that Mrs. Damerel’s affection, however genuine, must needs be baleful. From this point her part in the dialogue was slight. ‘If any of Miss. French’s relatives,’ said the visitor presently, ‘should accuse me to you, you will be able to contradict them. I am sure I can depend upon you for that service?’ ‘I am not likely to see them; and I should have thought you would care very little what was said about you by people of that kind.’ ‘I care little enough,’ rejoined Mrs. Damerel, with a curl of the lips. ‘It’s Horace I am thinking of. These people will embitter him against me, so long as they have any ground to go upon.’ ‘But haven’t you let him know of that letter?’ Mrs. Damerel seemed to fall into abstraction, answered with a vague ‘Yes,’ and after surveying the room, said softly: ‘So you must live here alone for another two or three years?’ ‘It isn’t compulsory: it’s only a condition.’ Another vague ‘Yes.’ Then: ‘I do so wish Horace would come back and make his home here.’ ‘I’m afraid you have spoilt him for that,’ said Nancy, with relief in this piece of plain speaking. Mrs. Damerel did not openly resent it. She looked a mild surprise, and answered blandly: