"Has he made inquiries?"
"Yes; he has. If you have been contented with me as I am,—if you are satisfied, why should he want to learn more? If you have any question to ask me I will answer it. But what right can he have to be asking questions among strangers?"
Clara had no question to ask, and yet she could not say that she was satisfied. She would have been better satisfied to have known more of Mrs. Askerton, but yet she had never condescended to make inquiries about her friend. But her curiosity was now greatly raised; and, indeed, Mrs. Askerton's manner was so strange, her vehemence so unusual, and her eagerness to rush into dangerous subjects so unlike her usual tranquillity in conversation, that Clara did not know how to answer her.
"I know nothing of any questioning," she said.
"I am sure you don't. Had I thought you did, much as I love you,—valuable as your society is to me down in this desert,—I would never speak to you again. But remember,—if you want to ask any questions, and will ask them of me,—of me,—I will answer them, and will not be angry."
"But I don't want to ask any questions."
"You may some day; and then you can remember what I say."
"And am I to understand that you are determined to quarrel with my cousin Will?"
"Quarrel with him! I don't suppose that I shall see him. After what I have said it is not probable that you will bring him here, and the servant will have orders to say that I am not at home if he should call. Luckily he and Colonel Askerton did not meet when he was here before."
"This is the most strange thing I ever heard in my life."