It was Bramham who again broached the subject of Carson. He could not help himself—these two people were dear to him; and, besides, he was eaten up with curiosity.
"If you go to the Portals you will meet Eve Carson. He is persona grata there."
"I know; Mrs. Portal said to me, amongst other things, 'You must meet our great friend, Sir Evelyn Carson.' She did not mention his wife, however."
"His wife——?"
"It will be interesting to meet his wife," she said tranquilly. Bramham gazed at her. She was carefully dissecting the pink part of a Neapolitan ice from its white foundation.
"Yes, I should think it would be—when he gets one. I was asking him only last night why he didn't marry, and he said——"
"He would be sure to say something arresting," said Poppy, but she had grown pale as death. Her eyes waited upon Bramham's lips.
"He said, first, that he was not wealthy enough—a paltry reason. Secondly, well, I can't quite repeat it, but something to the effect that the girl of his dreams wouldn't materialise."
There was a long silence. She sat with her hands in her lap and her eyes veiled. The colour of life came slowly back to her face, but she was racked and shadowy-looking. Compassion filled Charles Bramham.
"I suppose you heard that May Mappin tale? All rot. She's a foolish little Durban girl, left with a large fortune. He has never thought twice about her, but she has always persisted in making a fool of herself. It is a common story here that she cabled home reports of their engagement and marriage. Poor devil! I suppose she can't help herself ... but never mind her.... You, Rosalind! I can't pretend to understand you ... the mystery is too deep for me to probe. But I believe, that if last night I could have broken my promise to you——"