Her round light-coloured eyes grew humid to the point of fogging the lenses of her gold-rimmed glasses.
"But why should you worry so now, just as you are starting, Billy ?" Damaris reasoned, with the rather cruel logic of cool eighteen in face of hot and flustered nine-and-thirty.

"Only at luncheon you were telling me how much you always enjoy spending an afternoon at the Grey House.

I thought you looked forward so much to going.

What has happened to turn you all different, like this, at the last minute ?" "Nothing has happened exactly; but I have scruples about visiting my own friends and letting you remain alone when Sir Charles is from home.
It might appear a dereliction of duty--as though I took advantage of his absence." "Nobody would think anything so foolish," Damaris declared.

"And then you knew he would be away this week when you made the engagement." Theresa gulped and prevaricated.
"No, surely not--I must have mistaken the date." "But you were quite happy at luncheon, and you couldn't have mistaken the date then," Damaris persisted.
Whereupon poor Theresa lost herself, the worthy and unworthy elements in her nature alike conspiring to her undoing.