“Just because you were not,” she said.
Hugh stopped, frowning.
“She has been stopping up here, and tiring herself out for me?” he said. “Why, it makes me hideous.”
“It’s only my conjecture,” said Peggy lying with extraordinary naturalness.
“I wonder if you are right. What a beast I am never to have thought of it! I have often thought she looked tired, but she always behaved so untiredly. I’m awfully obliged to you for having told me. Thanks, awfully, Peggy!”
Then he remembered another thing he had intended to say to her.
“I have felt unfriendly to you,” he said, “for your advice to her about our marriage. I should like to say that I know you only desired our happiness.”
“Yes, dear Hugh—you may be quite sure of that,” said she gently.
They began walking toward the house again.
“Of course, we’ll go down to Mannington to-night,” he continued. “I’ll have my motor round at once. I can telegraph to London, and the servants can catch the last train down. Oh! I forgot—you have to get back to town. Would it do if I just drove you to the station, and you took a train?”