"Her man gave her away when we cornered him. I'd suspected for some time. I knew from her playing on the fiddle. What is it, Stafford?"
"The dam fellow—was always fussing near you," said Stafford, and fainted.
CHAPTER XVII
Gheena Freyne found the household awake, when arrayed in a long coat of Basil Stafford's she got home. George Freyne, who was on the doorstep, announced directly she got within earshot that he had sent for Darby. He would not countenance the absence of his stepdaughter during the night and her reappearance in knickerbockers in the mornings.
Gheena passed him as if she did not hear. She went heavily to her room to try to remember that she was not dreaming, that it was all real, and to try to banish the tingle of bitter shame as she remembered how she had suspected Stafford, and a hotter blush recalling hours spent with Violet Weston. To all questioning she merely answered that she had gone for a row and had upset the boat.
"I can't believe I am me," she said to Psyche over the comfort of hot tea and toast. "I can't, and I can't tell you even why!" But being a girl she told some things.
"And now"—Psyche's small face looked peaked—"now you know it is not only looking on Darby as a friend but caring for someone else."
Gheena said, "And I never thought I could care," very drearily, and Miss Delorme stamped very gently.
Whispers of great happenings buzzed across the day. Someone had heard shots and someone else had seen a German crew somewhere. Miss Gheena could tell and would not.
Dearest George questioned civilly and with authority, his stepdaughter's return without her skirt and the loss of the boat making him believe that she knew something. But Gheena merely replied again that she had lost the boat and swum in near the Dower House, and that was all she knew. A warm feeling that England depended on her for silence was near her heart.