“Very seldom.”
“This is mere equivocation; will you give me a straightforward reply?”
“I can't make it more so,” said Erica, keeping her temper perfectly and replying to the nagging interrogatories. “Do you mean once a year, twice a year?” etc., etc., with a steady patience which foiled Mr. Cringer effectually. He opened a fresh subject.
“Do you remember the 1st of September last year?”
“I do.”
“Do you remember what happened then?”
“Partridge shooting began.”
There was much laughter at this reply; she made it partly because even now the comic side of everything struck her, partly because she wanted to gain time. What in the world was Mr. Cringer driving at?
“Did not something occur that night in Guilford Terrace which you were anxious to conceal?”
For a moment Erica was dumfounded. It flashed upon her that he knew of the Haeberlein adventure and meant to serve his purpose by distorting it into something very different. Luckily she was almost as rapid a thinker as her father; she saw that there was before her a choice of two evils. She must either allow Mr. Cringer to put an atrocious construction on her unqualified “yes” or she must boldly avow Haeberlein's visit.