'No; I shall give nothing more to you. Good-bye....

'Remember, there are to be no more exceptions,' said Edith.

'I promise.'

She sat quietly alone for half-an-hour, waiting for Bruce.

She now felt sorry for Bruce, utterly and completely indifferent about
'the Townsend case', as she already humorously called it to herself.
But, she thought, she _must_ be strong! She was not prepared to lose
her dignity, nor to allow the children to be educated by a woman whose
faith at least with them and in their home was unreliable; their
surroundings must be crystal-clear. It would make a certain difference
to them, she thought. How could it not? There were so many little ways
in which she might spoil them or tease them, scamp things, or rush
them, or be nicer to one of them, or less nice, if she had any sort of
concealed relation with their father. And as she had been treated
absolutely as a confidante by Edith, the girl had certainly shown
herself treacherous, and rather too clearly capable of dissimulation.
Edith thought this must have a bad effect on the children.

Edith was essentially a very feminine woman though she had a mental
attitude rightly held to be more characteristic of men. Being so
feminine, so enraged under her calm and ease, she was, of course, not
completely consistent. She was still angry, and very scornful of Miss
Townsend. She was hurt with her; she felt a friend had played her
false--a friend, too, in the position of deepest trust, of grave
responsibility. Miss Townsend knew perfectly well what the children