“And you didn’t deny it to him?”
“No, I didn’t. But thanks to you, I put him upon a kind of probation. I wish I hadn’t, now. I wish I’d shown that I trusted him entirely. I know he deserves to be trusted; and to-morrow I shall tell him—”
“I don’t think I should commit myself any further till day after to-morrow,” said I drily. “Indeed, you couldn’t if you wanted to, unless you wrote or wired. You won’t see him to-morrow.”
“Yes, I shall,” she contradicted me, opening those big hazel eyes of hers, that looked positively black with excitement. “He’s going to the Duchess of Glasgow’s bazaar, because I said I should most likely be there: and I will go—”
“But he won’t.”
“How can you know anything about it?”
“I do know, everything. And I’ll tell you what I know, if you’ll promise me two things.”
“What things?”
“That you won’t ask me how I found out, and that you’ll swear never to give me away to anybody.”
“Of course I wouldn’t ‘give you away,’ as you call it. But—I’m not sure I want you to tell me. I have faith in Ivor. I’d rather not hear stories behind his back.”