“Very likely. But I don’t think I ever saw any woman I detested so thoroughly and instinctively. Every time I see her I dislike her more.”
“Hallo, little one! You’re quite fierce on the subject,” laughed her father. “Why do you hate her so? Has she been uncivil to my little girlie?”
“No, quite the contrary. But she’s utterly false somehow. I wouldn’t believe any statement that woman made—even if she were dying. But what a silly boy that young West must be. Why, she’s years older than himself!”
Bayfield laughed again, but he more than half thought Lyn’s estimate was very likely a true one.
Some little way behind, the two men had pulled their horses into a walk.
“Steer ahead,” said Percival doggedly. “Let’s get it over.”
“Yes. I think we might now. So you haven’t found out anything more about—Mrs Fenham, beyond what you told me last night?”
“No. Her husband died about a year ago. That was up-country. I wonder you never ran against him, Hilary.”
“But I know him intimately, only—he isn’t her husband.”
“The deuce! But he’s dead.”