"It would be something no one could expect.

He might be so rude that you could not remain in the room with him, or he might be quite polite, and pretend he was rather glad to see you.

If he was only frightfully rude we should be safer, because that would not be an unexpected thing, but if he was polite, it would be because he was arranging something hideous, which you could not defend yourself against." "Can you tell me," said Betty quite slowly, because, as she looked down at the carpet, she was thinking very hard, "the kind of unexpected thing he has done to you ?" Lifting her eyes, she saw that a troubled flush was creeping over Lady Anstruthers' face.
"There--have been--so many queer things," she faltered.

Then Betty knew there was some special thing she was afraid to talk about, and that if she desired to obtain illuminating information it would be well to go into the matter.
"Try," she said, "to remember some particular incident." Lady Anstruthers looked nervous.
"Rosy," in the level voice, "there has been a particular incident--and I would rather hear of it from you than from him." Rosy's lap held little shaking hands.
"He has held it over me for years," she said breathlessly.

"He said he would write about it to father and mother.