"Oh, then you are not English?" Pamela felt a sense of relief, though she always tried hard not to be narrow.
"No," said the Countess, adding, after a moment's pause, "I was to go to school next term after the summer holidays."
"Shall you now?"
"I don't know. I dare say not. I went for a while, it was horrible. I left soon; I don't know about anything."
"No wonder she left soon," thought Pamela, "her talk is simply full of 'I's', never heard anyone say so many." Again there was silence, because it was not easy to keep up conversation; the situation was so cramped and artificial to a girl of "open-air" temperament. Pamela began wondering if it would not be better to go now; she had said her say, and wanted to end it all.
"Well, I'm awfully sorry about your brooch," she pulled up her gloves, and made a move to stand up. "If I hear that anyone has found it, what shall I do? I can't claim it. Shall I give it to the Police--or what about Miss Ashington?"
"Who is Miss Ashington? Don't go yet--I want to talk to you--I want to know things."
Pamela settled down rather uneasily, for the Countess had laid a restraining hand on her arm.
"Oh, Miss Ashington is Lady Shard's sister," she answered the first question simply.
"Yes, of course, but I forgot. Chipman told me that, I remember now. No, how could I tell her, it would betray me, since the brooch is lost on the cliff, or the road. I cannot tell what I shall do--besides this Miss Ashington knows nothing of me--no one knows."