"I have a letter from him," I said; and I gave it to her.
She read it quietly, and put it into her pocket.
"Is Mr. Carew well?" she asked.
"He is well," I replied.
"I have heard nothing of him since I left him in Rosemullion," she said. "He told me then, it was his intention to quit it for ever, and never again to set foot in it. I said that there was no saying what might happen in the course of life. He lives now in Rosemullion?"
"Yes."
"Then he has not carried out his intention?"
There was no triumph in her voice, indicating that she had been right and he wrong. It was a simple statement of fact simply made.
"We often commit ourselves unguardedly," I observed.
She nodded assent.