She stopped short to face him. “Why? But surely I’ve explained to you—or rather I’ve hardly had to, you seemed so in sympathy with my reasons!”
“I didn’t know, then, who it was that Owen wanted to marry.”
The words were out with a spring and he felt a clearer air in his brain. But her logic hemmed him in.
“You knew yesterday; and you assured me then that you hadn’t a word to say——”
“Against Miss Viner?” The name, once uttered, sounded on and on in his ears. “Of course not. But that doesn’t necessarily imply that I think her a good match for Owen.”
Anna made no immediate answer. When she spoke it was to question: “Why don’t you think her a good match for Owen?”
“Well—Madame de Chantelle’s reasons seem to me not quite as negligible as you think.”
“You mean the fact that she’s been Mrs. Murrett’s secretary, and that the people who employed her before were called Hoke? For, as far as Owen and I can make out, these are the gravest charges against her.”
“Still, one can understand that the match is not what Madame de Chantelle had dreamed of.”
“Oh, perfectly—if that’s all you mean.” The lodge was in sight, and she hastened her step. He strode on beside her in silence, but at the gate she checked him with the question: “Is it really all you mean?”