The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. You will be wearing your travelling dress, and no doubt you would prefer it. By a tacit agreement they ignored the significant thing between them, ignored the slipping away of the ground on which they had stood together hitherto.
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