“I see,” said Mr. Carteret. He did not see at all, but it was a matter about which he felt that he could not ask questions.
“You know,” she said, after a pause, “that the man was Captain Wynford.”
“Yes,” he answered shortly. His tone changed. “Wynford is a good man—a good man,” he said awkwardly. “I can congratulate you both honestly.” He paused. “Well, I must go,” he went on. “I’m glad things are right again all round. Good-by.” He crossed to the door, and she stood watching him. She had grown very pale.
“Carty,” she said suddenly, in a dry voice, “I’m not acting well.”
He looked back perplexed, but in a moment he understood. She evidently felt that she ought to tell him outright that she was going to marry Wynford.
“In treating you as I did,” she finished, “in judging you—”
“You were hasty,” he said, “but I can understand.”
She shook her head. “You can’t understand if you think that there was only a flower in the locket.”
“Perhaps I have guessed already that there was a picture,” he said—“a picture that was not for my eyes.”