"I wanted to know. Have you told your husband everything that happened?" "Everything about the accident itself. Nothing more, Teresa." For a moment the blue eyes lightened with gratitude. "I _thought_ you wouldn't. But most women would. Thank you. I'd rather no one was told." "No one shall hear anything from me. It is not my business. I shall forget it, Teresa!" The girl shook her head. "You can't do that. I don't think I want you to forget. It's a help to have someone who understands. Mrs Beverley--do you think he _meant_ it?" Grizel sat upright on the sofa, her small hands locked on her knee, and for a long silent minute blue eyes and hazel met in a steady gaze. There were no secrets between the two women at the end of that minute. "Yes, Teresa," said Grizel unsteadily. "I think he did." "You know he did," corrected Teresa gravely. She was silent for another moment, sitting motionless with downcast eyes, then deliberately raised them again and continued: "At the time he did mean it... She is so beautiful, and fascinating. Everyone admires her. And it was terrible to watch her choking before one's eyes. It wrung one's heart. What he said at the time should not be counted. He was not sane. I am thinking of the time before.--Do you,--do you think he meant it _before_?" Grizel did not speak. To her impetuous ardent nature, the girl's composure seemed terrible and unnatural. It affected her more strongly than the most violent hysteria. She sat crunched up into the corner of the sofa, looking white and scared, and helpless, flinching before the steady scrutiny of the blue eyes. "_Please tell me_." "Teresa, I--wondered! It troubled me. Lately I felt sure. I was sorry it had been arranged to come here together. I tried to alter it; you know I tried... Did _you_ never suspect?" Teresa hesitated. The colour had faded from her cheek, but she was still calm and collected. "Not--_that_! I knew he admired her--that was of course. I knew he liked to be with her whenever he could. Once or twice I felt--lonely! But she was married.--I never dreamt of this. I have read of men falling in love with married women, but I have never known it in real life. I did not think he was that sort." Scorn spoke in her voice, a youthful intolerance and contempt. It was not only on her own account that she was suffering. Peignton had been to her the ideal man, and the ideal had fallen. The whole structure of life seemed shaken under her feet. Grizel looked at her, with a saddened glance.