And here a sudden throb of dismay sent the blood to her heart. Aunt
Philippa was going to speak to him upon this subject, was going to
suggest unspeakable things, was going to talk over her conduct with him
and make him furious in earnest. And then it would all come out about her
having met Bertrand all those years ago. Trevor would mention that in the
natural course of things, and then Aunt Philippa would tell him--would
tell him--
"Chris, dear, what is the matter? You are as white as a ghost."
It was Hilda's voice gently recalling her. She came to herself with a
start, and the hot blood rose to her cheeks with a rush.
"Are you very tired after yesterday?" her cousin asked. "I am afraid you
got up too early."
"Oh, no!" said Chris. "I wasn't early at all. I didn't ride this morning.
Jack has promised to come for me this evening instead."
She diverted Hilda's attention desperately. She could not make
confidences in the presence of the dressmaker. Moreover, she was not sure
that she wanted to talk even to Hilda about her pal from Valpre. It was
true Hilda understood most things, but Aunt Philippa had somehow managed
to inspire her with a sense of guilt.
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