Her voice was soft, however, when she answered Ralston's question.
"Ah, my poor Major!" she gently bleated. "You have all my sympathy. I could say nothing. But I always feared—I feared this would come!"
Ralston braced himself. "You know something, then?" he exclaimed. "You have something to tell me!"
"I do know something—yes," she said. "But whether I have something to tell—ah, that is different. I must think first."
"You mean, you wish to consult Paul," he prompted her. "But I can't wait for that. For heaven's sake, Mrs. Jennings, speak out; don't keep me in suspense."
"I did not mean to consult Paul," Gaby replied. "When I read your note I told Paul you asked me to come over alone, though it was not true. It is better that we talk without Paul listening."
"Shall Jim and I go away?" I asked quickly, speaking not to her, but to Ralston.
"No," he answered. "Mrs. Jennings can have nothing to say about Rosemary which I wouldn't care for you and Jim to hear."
I saw from Gaby's face that this verdict annoyed her, but she shrugged her pretty shoulders. "As you will," she said. "For me, I would rather Sir James and Lady Courtenaye were not here. But what matter? You would repeat to them what passes between us."
"Doubtless I should," Ralston agreed. "Now tell me what you have to tell, I beg."