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Forster, E. M. (Edward Morgan), 1879-1970

"Where Angels Fear to Tread"


"I was going to make myself some tea," he said, with his
hand still on the banisters.
"I should be grateful--"
So he followed her into the dining-room and shut the door.
"You see," she began, "Harriet knows nothing."
"No more do I. He was out."
"But what's that to do with it?"
He presented her with an unpleasant smile. She fenced
well, as he had noticed before. "He was out. You find me
as ignorant as you have left Harriet."
"What do you mean? Please, please Mr. Herriton, don't
be mysterious: there isn't the time. Any moment Harriet may
be down, and we shan't have decided how to behave to her.
Sawston was different: we had to keep up appearances. But
here we must speak out, and I think I can trust you to do
it. Otherwise we'll never start clear."
"Pray let us start clear," said Philip, pacing up and
down the room. "Permit me to begin by asking you a
question. In which capacity have you come to Monteriano--spy
or traitor?"
"Spy!" she answered, without a moment's hesitation. She
was standing by the little Gothic window as she spoke--the
hotel had been a palace once--and with her finger she was
following the curves of the moulding as if they might feel
beautiful and strange. "Spy," she repeated, for Philip was
bewildered at learning her guilt so easily, and could not
answer a word. "Your mother has behaved dishonourably all
through. She never wanted the child; no harm in that; but
she is too proud to let it come to me.


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