Not like--but here she tripped and coloured, on the threshold of her
thought. She had recently been the recipient of a very distressing
confidence; one, too, which she was not at liberty to share, even with
Richard. For, after the relief of a thorough-paced confession, Mrs.
Glendinning had implored her not to breathe a word to him--"I could
never look him in the face again, love!" Besides, the affair was of such
a painful nature that Polly felt little desire to draw Richard into it;
it was bad enough that she herself should know. The thing was this: once
when Polly had stayed overnight at Dandaloo Agnes Glendinning in a
sudden fit of misery had owned to her that she cared for another person
more than for her own husband, and that her feelings were returned.
Shocked beyond measure, Polly tried to close her friend's lips. "I don't
think you should mention any names, Agnes," she cried. "Afterwards, my
dear, you might regret it."
But Mrs. Glendinning was hungry for the luxury of speech--not even to
Louisa Urquhart had she broken silence, she wept; and that, for the sake
of Louisa's children--and she persisted in laying her heart bare. And
here certain vague suspicions that had crossed Polly's mind on the night
of the impromptu ball--they were gone again, in an instant, quick as
thistledown on the breeze--these suddenly returned, life-size and
weighty; and the name that was spoken came as no surprise to her. Yes,
it was Mr.
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