She felt that nothing was to be wondered at when she heard Agatha speak of Sir Bruce.

She could not utter his name or refer to any act of his without a sound in her voice which had its parallel in the light floating haze of blush on her cheeks.

In her intercourse with the world in general she would have been able to preserve her customary sweet composure, but Emily Fox-Seton was not the world.

She represented a something which was so primitively of the emotions that one's heart spoke and listened to her.

Agatha was conscious that Miss Fox-Seton had seen at Mallowe--she could never quite understand how it had seemed so naturally to happen--a phase of her feelings which no one else had seen before.