“Perhaps,” Helène continued, “I ought not to ask, but I must confess that you have surprised me. Is Lord Wolfenden—your lover?”
Miss Merton shut up the locket with a click and returned it to her bosom. There was no longer any question as to her retaining it. She looked at Helène thoughtfully.
“Has he been making love to you?” she asked abruptly.
Helène raised her eyes and looked at her. The other girl felt suddenly very insignificant.
“You must not ask me impertinent questions,” she said calmly. “Of course you need not tell me anything unless you choose. It is for you to please yourself.”
The girl was white with anger. She had not a tithe of Helène’s self-control, and she felt that she was not making the best of her opportunities.
“Lord Wolfenden,” she said slowly, “did promise to marry me once. I was his father’s secretary, and I was turned away on his account.”
“Indeed!”
There was a silence between the two women. Miss Merton was watching Helène closely, but she was disappointed. Her face was set in cold, proud lines, but she showed no signs of trouble.
“Under these circumstances,” Helène said, “the locket certainly belongs to you. If you will allow me, I will ring now for my maid. I am leaving here this evening.”