Jervaise. His air of a
criminal awaiting arrest had been more truly indicative than I could have
imagined possible. He had been expecting blackmail; had probably been
willing to pay almost any price to avoid the scandal. I wondered how far
the morning interview had relieved his mind?

"That explains Mr. Jervaise's state of nerves this morning," I remarked.
"I could see that he was frightfully upset, but I thought it was about
Brenda. I had an idea that he might be very devoted to her."

Anne pushed that aside with a gesture, as quite unworthy of comment.

"But, surely, that really does give your brother some kind of advantage,"
I went on thoughtlessly. I suppose that I was too intent on keeping Anne
in England to understand exactly what my speech implied.

She looked at me with a superb scorn. "You don't mean to say," she said,
"that you think we'd take advantage of a thing like that? Father--or any
of us?"

I had almost the same sense of being unjustly in disgrace that I had had
during the Hall luncheon party. I do not quite know what made me grasp at
the hint of an omission from her bravely delivered "any of us." I was
probably snatching at any straw.

"Your mother would feel like that, too?" I dared in my extremity.

Any ordinary person would have parried that question by a semblance of
indignation or by asking what I meant by it. Anne made no attempt to
disguise the fact that the question had been justified. Her scorn gave way
to a look of perplexity; and when she spoke she was staring out of the
window again, as if she sought the spirit of ultimate truth on some, to
me, invisible horizon.

"She isn't practical," was Anne's excuse for her mother. "She's so--so
romantic."

"I'm afraid I was being unpractical and romantic, too," I apologised,
rejoicing in my ability to make use of the precedent.

Anne just perceptibly pursed her lips, and her eyes turned towards me with
the beginning of a smile.

"You little thought what a romance you were coming into when you accepted
the invitation for that week-end--did you?" she asked.

"My goodness!" was all the comment I could find; but I put a world of
feeling into it.

"And I very nearly refused," I went on, with the excitement of one who
makes a thrilling announcement.

Anne humoured my eagerness with a tolerant smile. "_Did_ you?" she said
encouragingly.

"It was the merest chance that I accepted," I replied. "I was curious
about the Jervaise family."

"