Quite recently Joseph had become aware of the understanding between Michael and Kirkwood. The old man still hesitated to break the news to Jane, saying to himself that it was better for Sidney to prepare her by the change in his behaviour. ‘Of altering things?’ Jane repeated, under her breath. ‘It seems to me wrong—wrong to both of you,’ Joseph pursued, in a pathetic voice. ‘I can’t help noticing my child’s looks. I know she isn’t what she used to be, poor little girl! And I know Kirkwood isn’t what he used to be. It’s very hard, and I feel for you—for both of you.’ Jane sat motionless, not daring to lift her eyes, scarcely daring to breathe. ‘Janey.’ ‘Yes, father.’ ‘I wonder whether I’m doing wrong to your grandfather in speaking to you confidentially like this? I can’t believe he notices things as I do; he’d never wish you to be unhappy.’ ‘But I don’t quite understand, father. What do you mean about Mr. Kirkwood? Why should he—’ The impulse failed her. A fear which she had harboured for many weary days was being confirmed and she could not ask directly for the word that would kill hope. ‘Have I a right to tell you? I thought perhaps you understood.’ ‘As you have gone so far, I think you must explain. I don’t see how you can be doing wrong.’ ‘Poor Kirkwood! You see, he’s in such a delicate position, my dear. I think myself that he’s acting rather strangely, after everything; but it’s—it’s your money, Jane. He doesn’t think he ought to ask you to marry him, under the circumstances.’ She trembled. ‘Now who should stand by you, in a case like this, if not your own father? Of course he can’t say a word to you himself; and of course you can’t say a word to him; and altogether it’s a pitiful business.’ Jane shrank from discussing such a topic with her father. Her next words were uttered with difficulty. ‘But the money isn’t my own—it’ll never be my own. He—Mr. Kirkwood knows that.’ ‘He does, to be sure. But it makes no difference. He has told your grandfather, my love, that—that the responsibility would be too great. He has told him distinctly that everything’s at an end—everything that _might_ have happened.’ She just looked at him, then dropped her eyes on her sewing. ‘Now, as your father, Janey, I know it’s right that you should be told of this. I feel you’re being very cruelly treated, my child. And I wish to goodness I could only see any way out of it for you both. Of course I’m powerless either for acting or speaking: you can understand that. But I want you to think of me as your truest friend, my love.’ More still he said, but Jane had no ears for it. When he left her, she bade him good-bye mechanically, and stood on the same spot by the door, without thought, stunned by what she had learnt.