“Ah! There you have me. Now you've done it. I don't know. That's the fact--I don't know. Everybody thought so. She went on as if she did; but now,--no, I don't know. You see, she's such a cool hand, she's such a deep one--you can't tell. There's no telling with that sort. All I can say is, it looked uncommonly like the real thing. We all thought so at the time. The symptoms were right enough--or wrong enough, you'll say--and then, look at her since! She's stuck to him through everything--good report, bad report, everything. She's chucked her people--or been chucked. Had four beautiful sisters--glowing, upstanding, fine girls, all of them; and chucked. Old father, in the City: chucked. Mother, big, handsome, hot-tempered: chucked. And all for Nevile, who (between ourselves) ain't worth it. He's not a bad one, but he's not a good one, either. He's got a cruel temper, Nevile has--like that ghastly wife of his. But--” he cried, opening his arms--“there you are. They're like that, her sort. Mighty quiet about it, you know; was turned into the streets, you may say; father, mother, sisters, all showed their backs. What does she do? Sets her teeth together, looks straight ahead, and takes old Nevile. And here she is now oh, as--right as rain. What a girl, eh?” Mrs. Devereux was certainly moved. She was almost prepared to admit a genuinely exceptional case. But she had a question to ask. Did Ingram intend to marry her--now? At this Chevenix stepped back, as if to avoid a blow. “Ah!” he said. “Ah! That's it. Ask me another.” “Do you mean to say of your friend, and mine,” she pursued him, “that he would dare--after all that you tell me--to---” “No,” said Chevenix, in a desperate stew; “no, I don't mean that. I think he would have her this moment--if he could get her. But--the fact is--Well, you know--” and he glanced anxiously at the lady, “I've nothing to go upon, absolutely nothing as yet; but the fact is, I'm not sure whether she would take him, you know--now.” “Is that possible?” was all the lady could find to say, with a throw-up of the hands. “Is that possible?” “Quite--with Sanchia,” said Chevenix. “Through with him, you know--got to the bottom of him--sick of him. I believe he bores her, you know.” Mrs. Devereux looked at him, more in sorrow than in anger, and then walked slowly away. Most eloquent comment. VI Whatever may have been the net result upon Mrs. Devereux's mind of the explanatory revelations made upon the river bank, two things became clear as day succeeded day. One was that Miss Percival avoided her, the other that she sought out Miss Percival. Being entirely unable to succeed, she did not renounce her now benevolent attitude towards the young lady, but she decided to leave Wanless.