"Well, dear," she said, "if you insist, they said that there had been
something between you and Jem--long, long ago, of course, before he went
out to India."
Dora shrugged her shoulders.
"They are welcome to say what they like."
Mrs. Agar was silent, awaiting a second question.
"And why should you be sorry to believe that?" inquired the girl.
"I--I hardly like to tell you," said Mrs. Agar, in a low voice.
Dora waited in silence, without appearing to heed Mrs. Agar's reluctance.
"I am afraid, dear," went on the elder lady, when she saw that there was
no chance of assistance, "that we have been all sadly mistaken in Jem. He
was not--all that we thought him."
"In what way?" asked Dora. She had turned quite white, and her lips were
suddenly dry and parched. She held her parasol a little lower, so that
Mrs. Agar could not see her face. She was sure enough of her voice. She
had had practice in that.
"In what way was Jem not all that we thought him?" she repeated evenly,
like a lesson learnt by heart.
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