"Lady Caroline—" stammered Mrs. Harry, taken at unawares. "She has a right, naturally, to concern herself—"
"Does he know?"
"Sir Oliver? No—I believe not. . . . You see, the Vyells are a great family, and 'family' to them is a tremendous affair—a religion almost. Whatever touches one touches all; especially when that one happens to be the head of his house."
"Is that how Captain Vyell—how your husband—feels it?—No, please keep looking towards the gate. I mean no harm by these questions, and you will not mind answering them, I hope? It gives me just a little more chance of fair play."
"To tell you the truth," said Mrs. Harry, pretending to study the jump, "I looked at you because I could not help it. You are an extraordinarily beautiful woman."
"Thank you," answered Ruth. "But about 'Captain Harry,' as we call him?
I suppose he, as next of kin, is most concerned of all?"
"He did not tell me about you, if that is what you mean; or rather he told me nothing until I questioned him. Then he owned that there was such a person, and that he had seen you. But he does not even know of this visit; he imagines that Lady Caroline is taking me for a pleasure trip, just to view the country."
Ruth turned towards the house. "You will tell him, of course," she said gravely, "when you return to the ship."
"I—I suppose I shall," confessed Mrs. Harry, and added, "There's one thing. You may suppose that, as his wife, I am as much concerned as any—perhaps more than these others. But I don't want you to think that I suggested hunting you up."
"I do not think anything of the sort. In fact I am sure you did not."