But she shan't - not until I'm ready."
Clare hardly knew herself what she was waiting for.
She had decided to keep silence - that was the only straight and honorable course.
She felt an additional glow of virtue when she remembered the extreme provocation she had received.
After overhearing the way Vivien talked of her behind her back, a weaker character, she felt, might have abandoned her good resolutions.
She went twice to church on Sunday.
First to early communion, from which she came out strengthened and uplifted.
No personal feelings should weigh with her - nothing mean or petty.
She went again to morning service.
Mr. Wilmot preached on the famous prayer of the Pharisee.
He sketched the life of that man, a good man, pillar of the church.
And he pictured the slow, creeping blight of spiritual pride that distorted and soiled all that he was.
Clare did not listen very attentively.
Vivien was in the big square pew of the Lee family, and Clare knew by instinct that the other intended to get hold of her afterwards.
So it fell out.
Vivien attached herself to Clare, walked home with her, and asked if she might come in.
Clare, of course, assented.
They sat in Clare's little sitting room, bright with flowers and old-fashioned chintzes.
Vivien's talk was desultory and jerky.
"I was at Bournemouth, you know, last weekend," she remarked presently.
"Gerald told me so," said Clare.
They looked at each other.
Vivien appeared almost plain today.
Her face had a sharp, foxy look that robbed it of much of its charm.
"When you were at Skippington -" began Vivien.
"When I was at Skippington?" echoed Clare politely.
"You were speaking about some little hotel there."
"The County Arms.
Yes.
You didn't know it, you said?"
"I - I have been there once."
"Oh!"
She had only to keep still and wait.
Vivien was quite unfitted to bear a strain of any kind.
Already she was breaking down under it.
Suddenly she leaned forward and spoke vehemently.
"You don't like me.
You never have.
You've always hated me.
You're enjoying yourself now, playing with me like a cat with a mouse.
You're cruel - cruel.
That's why I'm afraid of you, because deep down you're cruel."
"Really, Vivien!" said Clare sharply.
"You know, don't you?
Yes, I can see that you know.
You knew that night - when you spoke about Skippington.
You've found out somehow.
Well, I want to know what you are going to do about it.
What are you going to do?"
Clare did not reply for a minute, and Vivien sprang to her feet.