“Maybe not. If he can’t find anybody who saw him out there on the bench, he will be arrested, and——”
“Oh, no, he won’t. Why, somebody must have seen him!”
“If any of the servants had, they would have said so.”
“They weren’t asked. What about Barry?”
“Oh, I think Barry was off in the other direction, down by the orchards. But, Beatrice, maybe Mr. Wadsworth saw him. Didn’t he leave you just about that time?”
“Yes, or a few moments sooner. Shall I ask him?”
“Oh, no. He’s a fine man, and if he did see Eugene, his word will stand. Are you going to—do you care for him, Beatrice?”
“No, Joyce. He is, as you say, a fine man, and he has asked me many times to marry him, but I do not love him in that way. I admire and respect him, that is all.”
“Poor Mr. Wadsworth. He worships the ground you walk on. Perhaps later, when all this horror is a thing of the past, you may change your mind.”
“Never, Joyce. But I’ll ask Mr. Wadsworth about Eugene. You telephone him to come over here. If I do——”