He wondered how often she thought of that scene in the library at Thorneytoft; she had behaved ever since as if it had never happened.

For one thing Stanistreet was thankful--she had left off discussing Nevill with him.

If she had ever been in ignorance, she now knew all that it concerned her to know.

Not that she avoided the subject; on the contrary, it seemed to have floated into the vague region of general interest, where any chance current of thought might drift them to it.

Stanistreet dreaded it; but she was continually brushing up against it, with a feathery lightness which made him marvel at the volatile character of her mind.