“In his not going up to Nanda. He came--frankly--to do that, but made up his mind on second thoughts that he couldn’t risk even being civil to her.” Mitchy had visibly warmed to his work. “Well, and what made the difference?” She wondered. “What difference?” “Why, of the effect, as you say, of his second thoughts. Thoughts of what?” “Oh,” said Mrs. Brook suddenly and as if it were quite simple--“I know THAT! Suspicions.” “And of whom?” “Why, of YOU, you goose. Of your not having done--” “Well, what?” he persisted as she paused. “How shall I say it? The best thing for yourself. And of Nanda’s feeling that. Don’t you see?” In the effort of seeing, or perhaps indeed in the full act of it, poor Mitchy glared as never before. “Do you mean Van’s JEALOUS of me?” Pressed as she was, there was something in his face that momentarily hushed her. “There it is!” she achieved however at last. “Of ME?” Mitchy went on. What was in his face so suddenly and strangely--was the look of rising tears--at sight of which, as from a compunction as prompt, she showed a lovely flush. “There it is, there it is,” she repeated. “You ask me for a reason, and it’s the only one I see. Of course if you don’t care,” she added, “he needn’t come up. He can go straight to Nanda.” Mitchy had turned away again as with the impulse of hiding the tears that had risen and that had not wholly disappeared even by the time he faced about. “Did Nanda know he was to come?” “Mr. Longdon?” “No, no. Was she expecting Van--?” “My dear man,” Mrs. Brook mildly wailed, “when can she have NOT been?” Mitchy looked hard for an instant at the floor. “I mean does she know he has been and gone?” Mrs. Brook, from where she stood and through the window, looked rather at the sky. “Her father will have told her.” “Her father?” Mitchy frankly wondered. “Is HE in it?” Mrs. Brook had at this a longer pause. “You assume, I suppose, Mitchy dear,” she then quavered “that I put him up--!” “Put Edward up?” he broke in. “No--that of course. Put Van up to ideas--!” He caught it again. “About ME--what you call his suspicions?” He seemed to weigh the charge, but it ended, while he passed his hand hard over his eyes, in weariness and in the nearest approach to coldness he had ever shown Mrs. Brook. “It doesn’t matter. It’s every one’s fate to be in one way or another the subject of ideas. Do then,” he continued, “let Mr. Longdon come up.” She instantly rang the bell. “Then I’ll go to Nanda. But don’t look frightened,” she added as she came back, “as to what we may--Edward or I--do next. It’s only to tell her that he’ll be with her.” “Good. I’ll tell Tatton,” Mitchy replied. Still, however, she lingered. “Shall you ever care for me more?”