“I never ask him questions like that. I knew he was to attend to some business for Uncle the next day, but I never ask him what he does evenings when he is in the city, or at any time when he is not with me.”
“But surely one might ask such questions of the man to whom she is betrothed.”
Miss Lloyd again put on that little air of hauteur which always effectually stopped my “impertinence.”
“It is not my habit,” she said. “What Gregory wishes me to know he tells me of his own accord.”
XIV. MR. PORTER'S VIEWS
I began on a new tack.
“Miss Lloyd, why did you tell an untruth, and say you did not come down-stairs again, after going up at ten o'clock?”
Her hauteur disappeared. A frightened, appealing look came into her eyes, and she looked to me like a lovely child afraid of unseen dangers.
“I was afraid,” she confessed. “Yes, truly, I was afraid that they would think I had something to do with the—with Uncle Joseph's death. And as I didn't think it could do any good to tell of my little visit to him, I just said I didn't come down. Oh, I know it was a lie—I know it was wicked—but I was so frightened, and it was such an easy way out of it, just to deny it.”