“Oh, no. I always take a turn in the season. But certainly it would have been a very unlikely place for us to meet a year ago.”
So far, Alice felt, she was getting the worst of the conversation. She changed the subject. “Have you been to Wiltstoken since I last saw you?”
“Yes. I go there once every week at least.”
“Every week! Janet never told me.”
Parker implied by a cunning air that he thought he knew the reason of that; but he said nothing. Alice, piqued, would not condescend to make inquiries. So he said, presently,
“How is Miss Thingumbob?”
“I do not know any one of that name.”
“You know very well whom I mean. Your aristocratic patron, Miss Carew.”
Alice flushed. “You are very impertinent, Wallace,” she said, grasping her riding-whip. “How dare you call Miss Carew my patron?”
Wallace suddenly became solemn. “I did not know that you objected to be reminded of all you owe her,” he said. “Janet never speaks ungratefully of her, though she has done nothing for Janet.”