"I came here to-day because I knew Godfrey wouldn't be here. Please don't tell him I came. He won't be back yet, will he?" "Not for an hour later than this, as a rule." "I left him in Woburn Square, you know." Winnie nodded. "And made my way here." "From what you say, I don't suppose you've come just to call on me, Miss Ledstone?" "No." She paused, then with a sort of effort brought out, "But I have been wanting to know you. Well, I'd heard about you, and--but it's not that." "Please don't be agitated or--distressed. And there's no hurry." "I wonder if you know anything of what daddy--my father--and mother are doing--of what's going on at home--in Woburn Square?" "I suppose I can make a guess at it." She smiled. "First the letters, then the visits! Didn't you write any of the letters?" "Yes--some." She stirred restlessly. "Why shouldn't I?" "I haven't blamed you. No doubt it's natural you should. But then--why come here, Miss Ledstone?" "How pretty you are!" Her eyes were fixed intently on Winnie's face. "Oh, it's not fair, not fair! It's not fair to--to anybody, I think. Do you know, your name's never mentioned at home--never--not even when we're alone?" "That part of it is done in the letters, I suppose? What am I called? The entanglement, or the lamentable state of affairs--or what? I don't know, you see. If you don't talk about me, we don't talk much about you here either." "Oh, well, it is--bad. But that's not what I meant--not all I meant, at least." She suddenly leant forward in her chair. "Does Godfrey ever talk of the people he meets besides ourselves?" "No, never. I shouldn't know anything about them, should I?" "Has he ever mentioned Mabel Thurseley?" "Mabel Thurseley? No. Who is she?" "They live near us--in Torrington Square. Her mother's a widow, an old friend of ours." "No, Godfrey has never said anything about Miss Thurseley." "She's rather pretty--not very, I think. They're comfortably off. I mean, as we think it. Not what you'd call rich, I suppose." She was remembering Mrs. Maxon. "My idea of riches nowadays isn't extravagant. But please tell me why you're talking to me about Miss Thurseley. Did you come here to do that?" "Yes, I did. You're never mentioned to her either. That's it." Winnie had never moved through the talk. Her slim figure, clad in close-clinging black, was outlined against the grey wall of the studio. "Oh, that's it! I see." "So I had to come. Because how is it right? How is it decent, Mrs. Maxon?" Winnie let the name pass, indeed hardly noticed it. "Wouldn't your ideas be considered rather eccentric?" she asked, with a smile. "Oh, I feel--I don't have ideas," murmured Amy Ledstone. "In your home I'm considered the thing that exists, but isn't talked about--that's done and got over."