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She could
never plead for her child's confidence--a confidence already given to
Emile, to a man. And now for the first time the common curiosity to
which she had not yet fallen a victim came upon her, flooded her. What
was Vere's secret? That it was innocent, probably even childish,
Hermione did not question even for a moment. But what was it?
She heard a light step outside and drew back from the door. The step
passed on and died away down the paved staircase. Vere had gone out to
the terrace, the garden, or the sea.
Hermione again moved forward, then stopped abruptly. Her face was
suddenly flooded with red as she realized what she had been going to
do, she who had exclaimed that every one has a right to their freedom.
For an instant she had meant to go to Vere's room, to try to find out
surreptitiously what Emile knew.
A moment later Vere, coming back swiftly for a pencil she had
forgotten, heard the sharp grating of a key in the lock of her
mother's door.
She ran on lightly, wondering why her mother was locking herself in,
and against whom.


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