THE AWKWARD AGE
bly near," Vanderbank continued, as if to make the matter free; "but she won't have done it either. She will have been distinctly tempted—"
"But she won't have fallen?" Mitchy broke in. "Exactly—there we are. I was distinctly tempted, and I didn't fall. I think your certainty about Mrs. Brook," he added, "shows you do know her. She's incapable of anything deliberately nasty."
"Oh, of anything nasty in any way," Vanderbank said musingly and kindly.
"Yes; one knows on the whole what she won't do." After which, for a period, Mitchy roamed and reflected. "But in spite of the assurance given you by Mr. Longdon—or perhaps indeed just because of your having taken it—I think I ought to mention to you my belief that Nanda does know of his offer to you. I mean having guessed it."
"Oh!" said Vanderbank.
"There's in fact more still," his companion pursued, "that I feel I should like to mention to you."
"Oh!" Vanderbank at first only repeated. But after a moment he said: "My dear fellow, I'm much obliged."
"The thing I speak of is something I should at any rate have said, and I should have looked out for some chance if we had not had this one." Mitchy spoke as if his friend's last words were not of consequence, and he continued as Vanderbank got up and, moving rather aimlessly, came and stood with his back to the chimney. "My only hesitation would have been caused by its entailing our going down into things in a way that, face to face—given the private nature of the things—I dare say most men don't particularly enjoy. But if you don't mind—"
"Oh, I don't mind. In fact, as I tell you, I recognize an obligation to you." Vanderbank, with his shoulders against the high mantel, uttered this without a direct
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