"I'm going to hurry up tea," she said importantly. "Dad and I think Cousin Bel's old servants all go to bed in the afternoon. None of them can be found anywhere till tea-time, and sometimes we don't have it till half-past five!"
When she had gone, General Macdonald turned to Rowena. "Why did you not answer that letter of mine?"
"What letter? I remember your saying just before I left Abertarlie, that you would either come over again, or write, but you did neither."
"I most certainly wrote. Did you never receive it?"
He got up from his chair and paced the floor in agitation, and Rowena felt breathless, as if she were on the point of a crisis in her life.
"Never. Letters sometimes go astray, and I am afraid poor Sandy was addicted to the bottle."
"I wrote, and took it for granted from your silence that—"
He broke off suddenly, and looked at her strangely. "Don't think me interfering. I can't beat about the bush. But I cannot bear to think of you with that painted woman and in her noisy set. I know her well by name. My young friend Graeme has talked of her. If you value the things you once did, how can you live with her? I do ask you as a personal favour to leave her."
Rowena was astounded and dismayed by this sudden turn to their talk. She was proud, and she seemed to General Macdonald to stiffen from head to foot.
"I have my reasons for staying with her," she said coldly. "You may doubt and misunderstand my motives, but at present I have no intention of changing my life."