"If she has told you, why do you ask?"

"She has told me nothing. I've seen for myself."

"What have you seen?"

"She has broken it off. Everything's over. Father's in the depths."

"In the depths?" the girl quavered.

"Did you think it would make him jolly?" he went on.

She had to choose what to say. "He'll get over it. He'll he glad."

"That remains to be seen. You interfered, you invented something,
you got round her. I insist on knowing what you did."

Adela felt that if it was a question of obstinacy there was something
within her she could count on; in spite of which, while she stood
looking down again a moment, she said to herself "I could be dumb and
dogged if I chose, but I scorn to be." She wasn't ashamed of what
she had done, but she wanted to be clear. "Are you absolutely
certain it's broken off?"

"He is, and she is; so that's as good."

"What reason has she given?"

"None at all--or half a dozen; it's the same thing. She has changed
her mind--she mistook her feelings--she can't part with her