"Let us drop the subject, then. Do you think it will rain?"

"Grandmother, Rowan must not come here any more." Isabel stopped
abruptly. "That is all."

. . . "I merely wanted you to understand this at once. We must not
invite him here any more."

. . . "If we meet him at the houses of our friends, we must do what
we can not to be discourteous to them if he is their guest."

. . . "If we meet Rowan alone anywhere, we must let him know that
he is not on the list of our acquaintances any longer. That is
all."

Isabel wrung her hands.

Mrs. Conyers had more than one of the traits of the jungle: she
knew when to lie silent and how to wait. She waited longer now,
but Isabel had relapsed into her own thoughts. For her the
interview was at an end; to Mrs. Conyers it was beginning. Isabel's
words and manner had revealed a situation far more serious than she
had believed to exist. A sense of personal slights and wounds gave
way to apprehension. The need of the moment was not passion and
resentment, but tact and coolness and apparent unconcern.

"What is the meaning of this, Isabel?" She spoke in a tone of frank
and cordial interest as though the way were clear at last for the
establishment of complete confidence between them.