Mitchy hesitated. “And did he then leave me also a message?” “No, nothing. What I’m to do for him with Mr. Longdon,” she immediately explained, “is to make practically a kind of apology.” “Ah and for me”--Mitchy quickly took it up--“there can be no question of anything of that kind. I see. He has done me no wrong.” Nanda, with her eyes now on the window, turned it over. “I don’t much think he would know even if he had.” “I see, I see. And we wouldn’t tell him.” She turned with some abruptness from the outer view. “We wouldn’t tell him. But he was beautiful all round,” she went on. “No one could have been nicer about having for so long, for instance, come so little to the house. As if he hadn’t only too many other things to do! He didn’t even make them out nearly the good reasons he might. But fancy, with his important duties--all the great affairs on his hands--our making vulgar little rows about being ‘neglected’! He actually made so little of what he might easily plead--speaking so, I mean, as if he were all in the wrong--that one had almost positively to SHOW him his excuses. As if”--she really kept it up--“he hasn’t plenty!” “It’s only people like me,” Mitchy threw out, “who have none?” “Yes--people like you. People of no use, of no occupation and no importance. Like you, you know,” she pursued, “there are so many.” Then it was with no transition of tone that she added: “If you’re bad, Mitchy, I won’t tell you anything.” “And if I’m good what will you tell me? What I want really most to KNOW is why he should be, as you said just now, ‘apologetic’ to Mr. Longdon. What’s the wrong he allows he has done HIM?” “Oh he has ‘neglected’ him--if that’s any comfort to us--quite as much.” “Hasn’t looked him up and that sort of thing?” “Yes--and he mentioned some other matter.” Mitchy wondered. “‘Mentioned’ it?” “In which,” said Nanda, “he hasn’t pleased him.” Mitchy after an instant risked it. “But what other matter?” “Oh he says that when I speak to him Mr. Longdon will know.” Mitchy gravely took this in. “And shall you speak to him?” “For Mr. Van?” How, she seemed to ask, could he doubt it? “Why the very first thing.” “And then will Mr. Longdon tell you?” “What Mr. Van means?” Nanda thought. “Well--I hope not.” Mitchy followed it up. “You ‘hope’--?” “Why if it’s anything that could possibly make any one like him any less. I mean I shan’t in that case in the least want to hear it.” Mitchy looked as if he could understand that and yet could also imagine something of a conflict. “But if Mr. Longdon insists--?” “On making me know? I shan’t let him insist. Would YOU?” she put to him. “Oh I’m not in question!” “Yes, you are!” she quite rang out. “Ah--!” Mitchy laughed. After which he added: “Well then, I might overbear you.” “No, you mightn’t,” she as positively declared again, “and you wouldn’t at any rate desire to.”