“I have no doubt,” she said, “that you are entirely to blame, but that is not the question. Unfortunately, there are other things to be considered, or she would have been sent packing before now. Tell me, Bertrand, what kept you down in the country these last few days?”
“I wanted a rest,” he answered. “I have to read my paper to-night, you know, and I was tired.”
“You have been spending your time alone?”
“No!” he answered, with scarcely a second’s hesitation. “I have been once or twice to Beauleys.”
“To see your friend Henry Rochester, I suppose?” she asked.
Saton’s face darkened.
“No!” he answered. “I would not move a step to see him. I hate him, and I think he knows it.”
“Who were the ladies of the party?” the woman asked. “Their names one by one, mind. Begin with the eldest.”
“Lady Penarvon.”