"I wouldn't be certain," said the whilom Mrs. Ramsay. "She can keep a secret. None better. You know, there's no doubt she shot poor Darling. They were alone in the gun-room together, and he couldn't have done it himself."
"I'll never believe that," he returned.
"Then you'll never believe the truth."
"But why? What was her object?"
"She wanted him out of the way to marry Lord Kneedrock, who was supposed to be dead, but was only buried for eight years in the South Seas."
"Nonsense!" said Carleigh. "She doesn't love Kneedrock. Never did. I've seen them together. I've heard them both talk, and I know."
"I told you she could keep a secret," said Sibylla Veynol.
They returned to Nice before dinner, and Carleigh found his wife reading.
"Feeling more fit?" he asked.
"I shall never feel more fit," she answered without looking up from her book.