"I beg your pardon, Albinia. I went into the park first; and since then I have been in the library, talking,—or rather listening."
"Talking about your plans?"
"I shall go to Glynde House in a fortnight."
A glittering flash of the diamonds showed me that Albinia had stirred suddenly.
"Then you have quite decided?"
"Quite. The Romillys want me, and Craven does not."
"We are expecting visitors soon," she said, rather faintly.
Poor Albinia! It was not her fault. I would not suggest that the house contained eight spare bedrooms.
"Of course I would rather have kept you for a few weeks longer," she went on. "But still—" and a pause. "If Craven—" another break. "And perhaps Mrs. Romilly wants you there before she leaves."
"No; not before. It would be her wish, but the doctors forbid excitement. She starts in a week from to-day; and she wishes me to go a week later,—just allowing the household time to recover a little from the parting. That seems wise, perhaps, as I am not to see her."