The two women plodded on through the wet world, in silence, while great drops splashed like explosions in the wood. When they came to the park, Connie strode ahead, and Mrs. Bolton panted a little. She was getting plumper.
"How foolish of Clifford to make a fuss!" said Connie at length, angrily, really speaking to herself.
"Oh, you know what men are! They like working themselves up. But he'll be all right as soon as he sees your ladyship."
Connie was very angry that Mrs. Bolton knew her secret: for certainly she knew it.
Suddenly Constance stood still on the path.
"It's monstrous that I should have to be followed!" she said, her eyes flashing.
"Oh! your Ladyship, don't say that! He'd certainly have sent the two men, and they'd have come straight to the hut. I didn't know where it was, really."
Connie flushed darker with rage, at the suggestion. Yet, while her passion was on her, she could not lie. She could not even pretend there was nothing between herself and the keeper. She looked at the other woman, who stood so sly, with her head dropped: yet somehow, in her femaleness, an ally.
"Oh well!" she said. "If it is so, it is so. I don't mind!"
"Why, you're all right, my Lady! You've only been sheltering in the hut. It's absolutely nothing."