"Miss Luttrell, I am sure there is no occasion for me to beat about the bush—with you," she began in an altered, but a no less flattering tone; "I see that one is quite safe in being frank with you. The fact is—and you know it—my son very nearly did marry someone out there. Now you met him out there in society, and you probably knew everyone there who was worth knowing, so pray don't pretend that you know nothing about this."
Their eyes were joined, but at the moment Christina's was the cooler glance.
"I couldn't pretend that, Lady Dromard, for it happens that I know all about it."
The countess was perceptibly startled. "The girl was a friend of yours?" she inquired quickly.
"A great friend," answered Tiny, nodding.
"How I wish you would tell me her name!"
"I mustn't do that." This was said decidedly. "But it seems a strange thing that you don't know it."
"It is a strange thing," Lady Dromard allowed; "nevertheless it's the truth. I never heard her name. You may imagine my curiosity. Miss Luttrell, I seem to have felt ever since I met you that you knew something about this—that you could tell one something. And I don't mind confessing to you now—since I see you are not the one to misunderstand me willfully—that I have purposely sought an opportunity of sounding you on the subject."
Christina smiled, for this was not news to her.
"My son will tell me nothing," continued Lady Dromard, "and I have, of course, the greatest curiosity to know everything. It is no idle curiosity, Miss Luttrell. I am his mother, and he has never got over that attachment."